But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think; – George Gordon, Lord Byron
Of writing many books there is no end;/ And I who have written much in prose and verse/ For others’ uses, will write now for mine,—/ Will write my story for my better self,/ As when you paint your portrait for a friend,/ Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it/ Long after he has ceased to love you, just/ To hold together what he was and is. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh
Leave a Comment