He who, in an enlightened and literary society, aspires to be a great poet, must first become a little child.

Sophistication is mostly a set of things you have learned not to say. In a clever crowd the strongest work usually comes from someone willing to look at a thing directly, at the risk of seeming simple. Knowingness protects you from embarrassment and it also keeps you from making anything that moves people.

When you are next tempted to add irony to something so it cannot be laughed at, leave it plain instead. Ask the naive question in the meeting. The willingness to look unsophisticated is usually the price of getting near anything true.