Character: Ruth Morse

- You all had to say about their work, ' said Ruth.
Yes, I confess. And if they couldn't really talk about the business, what would it be to hear them ranting about something else.

It's not so much what you say as how you say it.
Another translation:
No matter what you say, but how you do it.

- And I tell you, 'said he,' that at least ninety-nine percent of editors - it's just losers. It failed writers. Don't think they like tenul the strap in the wording and be aware of our slavish dependence on the distribution of the magazine and the publisher obratimosti than indulge in the pleasures of creativity. They tried to write but failed. And here it turns out the most ridiculous paradox. All doors to literary success these are protected by guard dogs, literary losers. Editors, assistants, reviewers, all those who read the manuscript, is all the people who once wanted to become writers, but are unable. And here they are, the latter, it would seem, who has the right of it, are literary arbiters of the destinies and decide what you need and what not to print. They are ordinary and mediocre, judged on originality and talent. Followed by critics, usually the same losers. Don't tell me that they never wanted and did not try to write poetry or prose, I tried, but they have not a damn thing came out. <...>
But if you fail? You must think of me, Martin!
- If I fail? - He looked at her for a moment, as if she had said something unthinkable. Then his eyes flashed mischievously. - Then I will be the editor, and editorial you will be wife.

This practicality prevents you from seeing the beauty, you ruin it, like children who catch butterflies and bright wash pollen from wonderful wings.

He walks faster, he who walks alone.