accuracy you must have or acquire a large stock, a wide range, of words.
Now this possession, like any other, brings with it temptation. If we have
words, we like to use them. Nor do we wait for an indulgence in this
luxury until we have consciously set to work to amass a vocabulary.

Verbosity is, in truth, the besetting linguistic sin. Most people are
lavish with words, as most people are lavish with money. This is not to
say that in the currency of language they are rich. But even if they lack
the means--and the desire--to be extravagant, they yet make their
purchases heedlessly or fail to count their linguistic change. The degree
of our thrift, not the amount of our income or resources, is what marks us
as being or not being verbal spendthrifts. The frugal manager buys his
ideas at exactly the purchase price. He does not expend a twenty-dollar
bill for a box of matches.

Have words by all means, the more of them the better, but use them
temperately, sparingly. Do not think that a passage to be admirable must
be studded with ostentatious terms. Consider the Gettysburg Address or the
Parable of the Prodigal Son. These convey their thought and feeling
perfectly, yet both are simple--exquisitely simple. They strike us indeed
as being inevitable--as if their phrasing could not have been other than
it is. They have, they are, finality. What could glittering phraseology
add to them? Nothing; it could only mar them. Yet Lincoln and the
Scriptural writers were not afraid to use big words when occasion
required. What they sought was to make their speech adequate without
carrying a superfluous syllable.

"The sun set" is more natural and effective than "The celestial orb that
blesses our terrestrial globe with its warm and luminous rays sank to its
nocturnal repose behind the western horizon." Great writers--the true