'How does the poem run ?-- 'Three centuries and threescore years ago, With phantasies of his peculiar thought.
You might as well try to rewrite Hamlet.

It will be a waste of time.
'No, it won't,' said Maisie, putting down the teacups with a clatter to reassure herself.

'And I mean to do it.

Can't you see what a beautiful thing it would make ?' 'How in perdition can one do work when one hasn't had the proper training?
Any fool can get a notion.

It needs training to drive the thing through,--training and conviction; not rushing after the first fancy.' Dick spoke between his teeth.
'You don't understand,' said Maisie.