A good man, one of the best of men, although a clergyman.
You have a something divine in you that is not in other men. You have
the touch that heals, not lacerates. And you know the secret places of
our hearts. You know our life -- the outside of it -- as the others do
-- & the inside of it -- which they do not.
God takes care of all of Jo Twichell's riff-raff; it was a commercial
mistake when I sold out my pew there. People of other affiliations have
to work and pay to get into Heaven, but Twichell can glide his
in on a pass. You ought to know Twichell.
Joseph Hopkins Twichell,
Mark Twain's pastor
I have to work my bile off, whenever it gets to where I can't stand it, but I can work it off on you economically, because I don't have to make it suit me. It may not suit you, but that isn't any matter, I'm not writing for that. I have used you as an equilibrium-restorer more than once in my time, & shall continue, I guess. I would like to use Mr. Rogers, & he is plenty good-natured enough, but it wouldn't be fair to keep him busy rescuing me from my leather-headed business-snarls & make him read interminable bile-irruptions besides; I can't use Howells, he is busy & old & lazy, & won't stand it; I dasn't use Clara, there's things I have to say which she wouldn't put up with -- a very dear little ashcat, but has claws.
And so -- you're It.
- Letter to Joseph Twichell, 24 June 1905
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