Once upon a time, there was a man whose job required him to write beautiful handwriting. He could meet the other requirements of his position, but he could not write beautiful handwriting. So he placed an advertisement looking for someone who could write. There were so many applications that it could almost fill a bucket. But he can only admit one person. He admitted the first person to apply. The man's handwriting was as beautiful as that produced by the best typewriter. This gentleman with a job has some talent for writing articles. When his article was written in such a beautiful font, everyone said: "It's so beautifully written!"
"This is my achievement." The writer said - he actually It's not even worth half a penny. After listening to these compliments for a week, he became proud and longed to become a person with a position.
He certainly would have made a good calligraphy instructor, and he certainly looked presentable when he showed up to a tea party wearing a white tie. But he wanted to write, and he wanted to destroy all writers. So he began to write about painting and sculpture, drama and music.
He writes a bunch of horrible crap. When the stuff was written so badly, he wrote it again the next day, saying it was a typographical error.
In fact, what he wrote was all typographical errors, and in the typography (this is an unfortunate thing), people could not see the only thing he was good at - beautiful calligraphy.
"I can knock down and I can praise. I am a great person, a little God - not too little!"
This is indeed nonsense, and But he died in the nonsense. His obituary appeared in the Berliner Zeitung. His friend who could write fairy tales described him very well - which in itself was a bad thing.
Although his friend's intentions were not bad, what he had done in his life - talking nonsense, shouting, nonsense - was still a terrible fairy tale after all.