G.L.S. Shackle

The writer’s art is a mysterious one. All of us build with the same
bricks, the words of our vocabulary universally shared. Yet those
words have in them the seeds of beauty that germinate by their mere
arrangement. Rhythm of words is not … a mere matter of sensuous
delight. The meaning of a passage is built up by the carrying over of
meaning from its early to its later phases by rhythm, the surge and
response of phrase and sentence. I am not a classical scholar and
cannot compare English and Greek in the matter of arousal or
sentiment. But I do think the saying to be true that form and
content are one.
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