Regarding poetry, my dear boy, you ought to be writing it, for I do--the diversion of leisure hours, impromptus.
In poetry, I would scorn anything but impromptus.

I was saying, Richie, that if tremendous misfortune withholds from you your legitimate prestige, you must have the substantial element.

'Tis your springboard to vault by, and cushions on the other side if you make a miss and fall.
'Tis the essence if you have not the odour.' I followed my father's meaning as the shadow of a bird follows it in sunlight; it made no stronger an impression than a flying shadow on the grass; still I could verify subsequently that I had penetrated him--I had caught the outline of his meaning--though I was little accustomed to his manner of communicating his ideas: I had no notion of what he touched on with the words, prestige, essence, and odour.
My efforts to gather the reason for his having left me neglected at school were fruitless.

'Business, business! sad necessity! hurry, worry-the-hounds!' was his nearest approach to an explicit answer; and seeing I grieved his kind eyes, I abstained.

Nor did I like to defend Mr.Rippenger for expecting to be paid.