And hold up to the sun my little taper.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

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.

Smelling of the lamp.

Smelling of the lamp.

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,

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.

That writer does the most, who gives his reader the most
knowledge, and takes from him the least time.

That writer does the most, who gives his reader the most
knowledge, and takes from him the least time.

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.

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.

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!