I once wrote a letter to my own sister in which I pretended to be surprised by a mistake she had made, when in truth I had seen it clearly enough. I claimed ignorance of her error, saying that I could not understand why she should have written the word so strangely, and that I must have misread it myself. It was a lie, plain and simple, born only of my wish to spare her feelings.

I ask you now to look at your own habits with such honesty that you may see them exactly as they are, without flinching or making excuses for them. When you write, let your hand be guided by truth alone, not by the desire to appear clever or kind in a way that is actually dishonest. If you make a mistake, admit it at once, and do not try to cover it up with words that sound reasonable but are false.