But 'why then publish?' - There are no rewards
Of fame or profit, when the world grows weary.
I ask in turn, - why do you play at cards?
Why drink? Why read? - To make some hour less dreary.
It occupies me to turn back regards
On what I've seen or ponder'd, sad or cherry;
And what I write I cast upon the stream,
To swim or sink - I have had at least my dream.

Lord Byron, Don Juan.