A drop of ink may make a million think.

They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

When people say, "I've told you fifty times," They mean to scold, and very often do; When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes," They make you dread that they'll recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; At fifty love for love is rare, 't is true, but then, no doubt, it equally as true is, a good deal may be bought for fifty Louis.

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print. A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.

Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.