Mark Twain Day By Day was originally a print reference, meticulously created by David Fears, who has generously made this work available, via the Center for Mark Twain Studies, as a digital edition. Please recognize that this is a preliminary, BETA version of a resource which we will continue to develop in the coming years. While we are excited about the functionality it currently offers - for instance, the searchbar in the upper left-hand corner - we also recognize that there are numerous errors (to formatting, spacing, punctuation, etc.) which were not part of the print edition. Moreover, the formatting may change based upon which browser you use to access the site. Rest assured, we are continuing to work to correct these problems and increase functionality so as the maximize the accuracy, accessibility, and user-friendliness of the resource. If you encounter major technical difficulties or find entries that have been made particularly messy or indecipherable during the digitization process, please let us know via [email protected]
What a wee little part of a person’s life are
his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none
but himself. All day long, and every day, the mill of his brain is grinding,
and his thoughts, not those other things, are his history. His acts and his
words are merely the visible, thin crust of his world, with its scattered snow
summits and its vacant wastes of water — and they are so trifling a part of his
bulk! a mere skin enveloping it. The mass of him is hidden — it and its
volcanic fires that toss and boil, and never rest, night nor day. These are his
life, and they are not written, and cannot be written. Every day would make a
whole book of eighty thousand words — three hundred and sixty-five books a
year. Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of the man — the biography of
the man himself cannot be written.
M.T.
.
