The pen is the tongue of the mind.
[Sp., La pluma es lengua del alma.]

The pen is the tongue of the mind.
[Sp., La pluma es lengua del alma.]

Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength,
And ponder well your subject, and its length;
Nor read more

Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength,
And ponder well your subject, and its length;
Nor lift your lad, before you're quite aware
What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear.

The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron, and with the
point of a diamond: it read more

The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron, and with the
point of a diamond: it is graven upon the table of their heart,
and upon the horns of your altars;
Whilst their children remember their altars and their groves by
the green trees upon the high hills.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
read more

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.

The book that he has made renders its author this service in
return, that so long as the book read more

The book that he has made renders its author this service in
return, that so long as the book survives, its author remains
immortal and cannot die.

No author ever drew a character, consistent to human nature, but
what he was forced to ascribe to it read more

No author ever drew a character, consistent to human nature, but
what he was forced to ascribe to it many inconsistencies.

Indeed, unless a man can link his written thoughts with the
everlasting wants of men, so that they shall read more

Indeed, unless a man can link his written thoughts with the
everlasting wants of men, so that they shall draw more from them
as wells, there is no more immortality to the thoughts and
feelings of the soul than to the muscles and bones.

But every fool describes, in these bright days,
His wondrous journey to some foreign court,
And spawns read more

But every fool describes, in these bright days,
His wondrous journey to some foreign court,
And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,--
Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.

And force them, though it was in spite
Of Nature and their stars, to write.

And force them, though it was in spite
Of Nature and their stars, to write.