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.

Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the read more

Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,
And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.

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.

So that the jest is clearly to be seen,
Not in the words--but in the gap between;
read more

So that the jest is clearly to be seen,
Not in the words--but in the gap between;
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,
The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.

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.

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.

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.

There is probably no hell for authors in the next world--they
suffer so much from critics and publishers in read more

There is probably no hell for authors in the next world--they
suffer so much from critics and publishers in this.

He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who
writes verses builds it in granite.
read more

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,