You stole my story and something's got to be done about it.

I have sat here at my desk, day after day, night after night, a blank sheet of paper before me, unable to lift my pen, trembling and weeping too.

If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

Sometimes the hardest journeys are the ones that begin with little hope. But we need to take them anyway.

True, the initial ideas are in general those of an individual, but the establishment of the reality and truth is in general the work of more than one person.

Writing to corroborate what you already think is the essence of bad writing.