If all the trees in all the woods were men
And each and every blade of grass a pen
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes
And for ten thousand ages, day and night
The human race should write, and write, and write
Till all the pens and paper were used up
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Oh my good man.