14 February (1797): Charles Lamb to Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I can scarce bring myself to believe that I am admitted to a familiar correspondence, and all the licence of friendship, with a man who writes blank verse like Milton. Now, this is delicate flattery, indirect flattery. Go on with you Maid of Orleans, and be content to be second to yourself. I shall become a convert to it when ‘tis finished.

Staff Picks: Aphorisms, Angry Readers

How Publishing is Rigged is a now-defunct blog, penned by a literary industry outsider. Its goal: “Once you get familiar with what’s available at How Publishing Is Rigged, you’ll witness that publishing is controlled by a handful of individuals and … Continued