"William," said I, without another syllable of preface, "I have got a new plan for finding all the money we want for our expenses here." He jerked his head up directly, and looked at me.

What plan?
"This: The state of your eyes prevents you for the present from following your profession as an artist, does it not?
Very well.

What are you to do with your idle time, my dear?
Turn author! And how are you to get the money we want?
By publishing a book!" "Good gracious, Leah! are you out of your senses ?" he exclaimed.
I put my arm round his neck and sat down on his knee (the course I always take when I want to persuade him to anything with as few words as possible).
"Now, William, listen patiently to me," I said.

"An artist lies under this great disadvantage in case of accidents--his talents are of no service to him unless he can use his eyes and fingers.

An author, on the other hand, can turn his talents to account just as well by means of other people's eyes and fingers as by means of his own.