Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
Yet, mad am I not — and very surely do I not dream.
If you are ever drowned or hung, be sure and make a note of your sensations.
...If you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel
The want of an international Copy-Right Law, by rendering it nearly impossible to obtain anything from the booksellers in the wayof remuneration for literary labor, has had the effect of forcing many of our very best writers into the service of the Magazines and Reviews.