... [you] will have no more formidable antagonists than generous enemies.
Literary things belong to the intellectual world. To speak of them with the passions of this one is contrary to propriety, to proportion, to good spirit and good sense. Mr. Delalot’s fires, flames, vehemences, and indignations are ridiculous. He writes about words as it is permissible and natural to write only about mores. I dare say it: if there is nothing affected in him, at least everything is out of place.
Let us have the merit of the age if we have its faults. Struck by the harm, let us love the compensations.
One must treat things of the mind with the mind, not with the body, blood, bile, and humors. Mr. Delalot’s irritated eloquence, energy, and petulances are affections naturally incompatible with what moves him.
Such combats ought to be fought only among inhabitants of the air.
In such a case, one must wait to speak until anger has fallen silent.
It is a bad use of the soul’s strength, it is a corruption of fire, light, and movement.
February 6.
... Suspends attention through words that are themselves suspended (like the earth, balanced by its own weights). Balanced by their own meaning and brought sufficiently into equilibrium.
There must also, in some sense, be nothing in verse, true verse, but roundnesses flattened or unfolded.
— Degeneration of a beautiful genre.
There is spring in his style, but a spring that lets itself be seen too much or makes itself felt too much. Like those steel sinews on the psaltery.
There is concord, and no charm, between the tones.
— who, for faults of style, have severities scarcely permissible against faults of conduct. Upon bad writings [they] pour the gall that must be kept for bad actions.
...to amuse a public that is no longer amusable.
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The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert, Volume II · Book Mode · Diotimos