A noun, a verb, a consolate of things,
an addage of a sentence is the poison of all things.
No it doesn’t matter, no it isn’t you, the moment you jot down the thing someone else said for you to do.
Writing is an art, a word is just the start, the maker of good writing is more understood than taught.
For it is a wrong, a wrong is it to me, the second you instruct someone to write submissive things.
Along with misconceptions, along with wrong directions, exist the man who tells us such things that breed discretion.
The key to it is here, the key to is you see, is never to expect to show the intelligence of me. You want to be good, you want to be the best, you must exist underneath the texts of what you send.
For the object belongs to you, the art is displayed to me, the only job I have for prose is to bring the sight to see. For before it is born, before all art is made, it exist somewhere in the ethosphere for humble souls to take.
It is our job to see it, our job to make it known. It is a gift from up above whose origin is un-shown. He is the giver of words, the gifter of all things, He is the one who shows us to the truthfulness of needs.
A word is not a word, a rhyme is not a rhyme, the secret to all art may be the opposite of what you find. For the teachers they are dull, the rhymers do not speak, the secret to the task at hand is to show what you can see.
Anything more is foolish, anything more is dull, anything less is atrophy of the bringer of the gold. Do not be misled, do not be fooled by me, the greatest of the art at hand belongs to those who see.
– Thomas M. Watt