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.

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.

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.

As so I penned
It down, until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, read more

As so I penned
It down, until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

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.

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.

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.

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.