Summary

Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Lamb…

Above all, he had character, personality, mind; and such a man was unlikely, considering the number of his acquaintances and the variety of his pursuits, to pass through life without making enemies. But he had a genius for friendship, and social gifts which have outlasted him. Not only do his Diary and the other jottings-down of his leisure moments revivify the men whom he knew and loved. They create for him new friends in his readers, who owe to him what is almost a personal acquaintance with many they had otherwise vainly wished to know in their habit as they lived.
Source: Wikisource

Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Lamb…

He declared himself never to have remedied the defects of his early education, to have a smattering of many subjects as a result of much desultory reading, but to have no profound knowledge of any one of them. Nor had he literary ability, and he could not write except in a pedestrian way; "Sir," he would reiterate, "I have no literary talent. I cannot write. I never could write anything, and I never would write anything." "I never knew any law, sir, but I knew the practice." "I am nothing, and never was anything, not even a lawyer."
Source: Wikisource

Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Lamb…

We know from the Diary that, nevertheless, much time was spent by Robinson towards the end of his life in the destruction of papers and of letters which he thought would prove valueless to posterity. It cannot be claimed that everything which is preserved merits publication. Inevitably, much in so detailed a Diary must for us who come after be unprofitable reading. People of importance in their day, or events and discussions which once loomed large, have ceased to be interesting. We do not want to know exactly where Robinson visited and dined on every one of 365 days every year.
Source: Wikisource

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