The harder I work…

Recently forwarded to our editorial offices by a field correspondent, authorial provence unknown:

Literary noble Sir Compton Mackenzie once said, “The harder I work the more I need to smoke, because tobacco is the handmaid of literature.” I wonder whether there’s been any truly great writer, other than those unfortunates who lived before the weed was discovered, who didn’t smoke. Besides its pleasurable qualities, nicotine enhances the brain’s activities, speeding up thought processes, and writers have known this for centuries: Kant smoked a pipe every morning; though he allowed himself only one pipe a day, his pipes got bigger over the years. And when Hobbes sat down to write, he had five pipes lined up, which he smoked one after the other. (All three of these men lived to a ripe old age.)

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