“I never thought, when I used to read books, what work it was to write them.’ ‘It’s work enough to read them, sometimes,’ I returned. ‘As to the writing, it has its own charms, aunt.’ ‘Ah! I see!’ said my aunt. ‘Ambition, love of approbation, sympathy, and much more, I suppose? Dickens, Charles. David Copperfield (Macmillan Collector's Library Book 50) (pp. 1228-1229). Pan Macmillan. Kindle Edition. ”
