There is no greater art than artlessness.
Why waste time expounding in a particular style when the wind is blowing unevenly across one ear and the other, creating a lonesome whispering? Isn't it better to close your eyes, turn your head, and just ponder what you might see when you open them?
You might be surprised.
Take the word "together". When I was six years old and learning to read, this was one word that wasn't in my vocabulary. I would read it in my simple primer, and mispronounce it "tog'- i - ther". My lovely memory is of my mother informing me that it was a word I already knew!
Did it matter to my reading? As I recall, it was wonderful to know what "tog' - i - ther" was, but it didn't slow down my reading. When Tom and Alice went to the store "tog' - i - ther", I just assumed it was a subtle agreement on something between them and didn't worry about it.
My sister, on the other hand wouldn't stand for this; she would want to hunt down this "tog' - i - ther" and expose it for the dirty secret it was. Never would she let Alice be victimized by her, my sister's, own ignorance.
Aren't we different?
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