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.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

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!

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.

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,

No call has ever poisoned by pen.
[Fr., Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonne ma plumme.]

No call has ever poisoned by pen.
[Fr., Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonne ma plumme.]

Smelling of the lamp.

Smelling of the lamp.

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.