When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen.
Oh, happy triumph of the poet! - to hear his verses wedded to sweet sounds, and warbled by the woman he loves!
Circumstances are the rulers of the weak; they are but the instruments of the wise.
To return after long years of painful absence to some place which has been the scene of our former joys, and whence the force of circumstance, and not choice, has driven us, is oppressive to the heart.
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye.
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can.