None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.

None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.

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

He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who
writes verses builds it in granite.
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He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who
writes verses builds it in granite.
- Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, first Baron Lytton,

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.

Smelling of the lamp.

Smelling of the lamp.

Apt Alliteration's artful aid.

Apt Alliteration's artful aid.

Habits of close attention, thinking heads,
Become more rare as dissipation spreads,
Till authors hear at length read more

Habits of close attention, thinking heads,
Become more rare as dissipation spreads,
Till authors hear at length one general cry
Tickle and entertain us, or we die!

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.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.