This Mortal Coil
"But you must write poetry for something or other, Massinger; for if it isn't rude to make the suggestion, you can hardly write it, you know, for a livelihood."
Massinger's dark face flushed visibly. "I write for fame," he answered majestically, with a lordly wave of his long thin hand. "For glory--for honor--for time--for eternity. Or, to be more precisely definite, if you prefer the phrase, for filthy lucre. In the coarse and crude phraseology of political economists, poetry takes rank nowadays, I humbly perceive, as a long investment. I'm a journalist by trade--a mere journeyman journalist; the gushing penny-a-liner of a futile and demoralized London press. But I have a soul within me above penny-a-