The moment one wills to be humorous is the moment one stops being humorous. Just as beautiful art must come naturally, so also must good humor. Humor is an intuition; and as with all intuitions, it is best represented by an immediate transcription, such that it follows as closely as it can the form in which it took when it struck one in the mind. If one were to delay this process and peruse the words to be employed, tweaking and polishing them, the essence would be diluted and the humor lost. One does not realize that by replacing the words that first came to mind; words which instinct procured to represent the intuition, the humorous twist, the witty addition; one is in fact replacing them with parts that do not fit the whole. And as a result, what is produced is not the essence of humor, but a clumsy construction of the callous intellect.