Talk for you is good discipline.

You converse imperfectly.

While you speak, there can be no oblivion of inferiority--no encouragement to delusion: pain, privation, penury stamp your language...." "But," I again broke in, "where the bodily presence is weak and the speech contemptible, surely there cannot be error in making written language the medium of better utterance than faltering lips can achieve ?" Reason only answered, "At your peril you cherish that idea, or suffer its influence to animate any writing of yours!" "But if I feel, may I _never_ express ?" "_Never!_" declared Reason.
I groaned under her bitter sternness.

Never--never--oh, hard word! This hag, this Reason, would not let me look up, or smile, or hope: she could not rest unless I were altogether crushed, cowed, broken-in, and broken-down.

According to her, I was born only to work for a piece of bread, to await the pains of death, and steadily through all life to despond.