I cannot help asking why men and women should be terrorized by custom—­the method followed or prescribed by other men and women.  Why be so afraid of others; why so anxious to “kow-tow” to the standards of others?  Who are they?  What are they, that they should demand the reverent following of the world?  Have you anything to say?  Have you a right to say it?  Is it wise to say it?  Then, in the name of God, of manhood, of common sense, say it, directly, positively, assertively, as is your right, remembering the assurance of the Declaration of Independence that “all men are created equal.”  Don’t worry about whether you are saying it in the genteel fashion of some one else’s standard.  Make your own standard.  Even the standards of the grammar books and dictionaries are not equal to that of a man who has something to say and says it forcefully, truthfully, pointedly, directly.  Dr. Palmer has a few words to say on this phase of the subject, which are well worthy serious consideration:  “The cure for the first of these troubles is to keep our eyes on our object, instead of on our listener or ourselves; and for the second, to learn to rate the expressiveness of language more highly than its compeers.  The opposite of this, the disposition to set correctness above expressiveness, produces that peculiarly vulgar diction, known as “school-ma’am English,” in which for the sake of a dull accord with usage, all the picturesque, imaginative, and forceful employment of words is sacrificed.”

There you have it!  If you have something to say that really means something, think of that, rather than of the way of saying it, your hearer, or yourself.  Thus you will lose your self-consciousness, your dread, your fear, your worry.  If your thought is worth anything, you can afford to laugh at some small violation of grammar, or the knocking over of some finical standard or other.  Not that I would be thought to advocate either carelessness, laziness, or indifference in speech.  Quite the contrary, as all who have heard me speak well know.  But I fully believe that thought is of greater importance than form of expression.  And, as for grammar, I believe with Thomas Jefferson, that “whenever, by small grammatical negligences, the energy of your ideas can be condensed or a word be made to stand for a sentence, I hold grammatical rigor in contempt.”

I was present once when Thomas Carlyle and a technical grammarian were talking over some violation of correct speech—­according to the latter’s standard—­when Carlyle suddenly burst forth in effect, in his rich Scotch burr:  “Why, mon, I’d have ye ken that I’m one of the men that make the language for little puppies like ye to paw over with your little, fiddling, twiddling grammars!”