It is not love that leads writers to declaim at length, but something between vanity and hate. Those who wish to communicate are conscious of the audience; they do not write inconsequential treatises. Instead, they hone every word, because the ideas are so important that they must reach the audience. That is, the words sing in order to communicate.
However, some writers have learned how to write, but not whether to write. That is, they possess the functional skillset that allows them to create words from nothing, but they do not care that their words are neither heard or understood. They write solely to capture the sound of their voice. These misguided souls can fill the world with the sound of themselves and communicate nothing, because nothing is less interesting than another man’s vanity. There is a delicate tension in the phrase “write in order to be read”. You want your words to hit home, but you strive to avoid satiating the lowest instinct of readers.
What is worse is that these blowhards and sufferers of loggorhea are often touted as examples of great writing and then used to introduce children to the written word. Adults then praise the dilettantish and the obscure, thinking that some of the imagined genius of the writer will rub off on them if they praise him enough. And such tomfoolery is how societies collapse, with the stunned and the deposed wondering aloud, “But do you not think that the emperor has such fine clothes?” when in fact the man is naked.