Letter 334: Write straight, and make the lines straight. Do not let your hand go too high or too low. Avoid forcing the pen to travel slantwise, like Æsop's crab.

Write straight, and keep the lines straight. Do not let your hand go too high or too low. Do not force the pen to travel on a slant, like Aesop's crab. Move straight ahead, as if following a carpenter's rule, which always preserves precision and prevents irregularity. The slanted line is ugly. It is the straight line that pleases the eye and keeps the reader's gaze from bouncing up and down like a lever on a pivot. This has been my experience reading your writing. Because your lines run like the rungs of a ladder, I had to climb to the end of one line, then, finding no connection, go back and hunt for the right sequence all over again -- retreating and advancing along the furrow like Theseus following Ariadne's thread through the labyrinth. Write straight, and stop confusing my mind with your meandering script.

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To a writer. Write straight, and make the lines straight. Do not let your hand go too high or too low. Avoid forcing the pen to travel slantwise, like Æsop's crab. Advance straight on, as if following the line of the carpenter's rule, which always preserves exactitude and prevents any irregularity. The oblique is ungraceful. It is the straight which pleases the eye, and does not allow the reader's eyes to go nodding up and down like a swing-beam. This has been my fate in reading your writing. As the lines lie ladderwise, I was obliged, when I had to go from one to another, to mount up to the end of the last: then, when no connection was to be found, I had to go back, and seek for the right order again, retreating and following the furrow, like Theseus in the story following Ariadne's thread. Write straight, and do not confuse our mind by your slanting and irregular writing.

[Πρός: Καλλιγράφῳ] Ὀρθὰ γράφε καὶ χρῶ τοῖς στίχοις ὀρθῶς· καὶ μήτε αἰωρείσθω πρὸς ὕψος ἡ χεὶρ μήτε φερέσθω κατὰ κρημνῶν. μηδὲ βιάζου τὸν κάλαμον λοξὰ βαδίζειν, ὥσπερ τὸν παρʼ Αἰσώπῳ καρκίνον· ἀλλʼ εὐθὺ χώρει, ὥσπερ ἐπὶ στάθμης βαδίζων τεκτονικῆς, ἣ πανταχοῦ φυλάττει τὸ ἴσον καὶ πᾶν ἀναιρεῖ τὸ ἀνώμαλον. τὸ γὰρ λοξὸν ἀπρεπές, τὸ δὲ εὐθὺ τερπνὸν τοῖς ὁρῶσιν, οὐκ ἐῶν ἀνανεύειν καὶ κατανεύειν, ὥσπερ τὰ κηλώνεια, τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς τῶν ἀναγινωσκόντων. ὁποῖόν τι κἀμοὶ συμβέβηκε τοῖς γράμμασιν ἐντυχόντι τοῖς σοῖς. τῶν γὰρ στίχων κειμένων κλιμακηδόν, ἡνίκα ἔδει μεταβαίνειν ἐφʼ ἕτερον ἀφʼ ἑτέρου, ἀνάγκη ἦν ἐξορθοῦν πρὸς τὸ τέλος τοῦ προσιόντος. ἐν ᾧ μηδαμοῦ φαινομένης τῆς ἀκολουθίας, ἀνατρέχειν ἔδει πάλιν καὶ τὴν τάξιν ἐπιζητεῖν, ἀναποδίζοντα καὶ παρεπόμενον τῷ αὔλακι, καθάπερ τὸν Θησέα τῷ μίτῳ τῆς Ἀριάδνης φασί. γράφε τοίνυν ὀρθῶς, καὶ μὴ πλάνα τὸν νοῦν τῷ πλαγίῳ καὶ λοξῷ τῶν γραφομένων.