Stale words, what are they worth? A moment comes and God help those for whom it never comes. When love of such nobility possesses this shaking frame … - Edmond Rostand

Oh! We have our pockets full,
we poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes — creation of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves, — phantasms of our brains. — Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles! Come! Take it, and change feigned love words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, — Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! — Take it, and make an end!

"To sing, to laugh, to dream, to walk in my own way and be alone, free, with an eye to see things as they are, a voice that means manhood — to cock my hat where I choose — At a word, a Yes, a No, to fight — or write. To travel any road under the sun, under the stars, nor doubt if fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne — Never to make a line I have not heard in my own heart; yet, with all modesty to say: "My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.

A word of all the words I've got in there...
But if I wrote... Let's get it written, then,
This letter I've composed a hundred times,
Written and rewritten in my mind: it's ready
And all I have to do is lay my soul
Open beside the paper and copy it out.