“Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town,
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-gown,
Tirling at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"”

St. 5
The Mariner's Wife (1769)
Context: Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his speech,
His breath like caller air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stairs:
And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak!

Variant: Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed downstairs one step at a time.

Act II, scene vii; comparable to: "Born in a cellar, and living in a garret", Samuel Foote, The Author, act 2; "Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred", Lord Byron, A Sketch
Love for Love (1695)

Source: Howl's Moving Castle

Source: City of Bones

Source: The Grapes of Wrath (1939)

Eat, Pray, Love (2006)
Context: I walk up the stairs to my fourth-floor apartment, all alone. I let myself into my tiny little studio, all alone. I shut the door behind me. Another early bedtime in Rome. Another long night's sleep ahead of me, with nobody and nothing in my bed except a pile of Italian phrase books and dictionaries.
I am alone, I am all alone, I am completely alone.
Grasping this reality, I let go of my bag, drop to my knees, and press my forehead against the floor. There I offer up to the universe a fervent prayer of thanks.
First in English.
Then in Italian.
And then — just to get the point across — in Sanskrit. 
And since I am already down there in supplication on the floor, let me hold that position as I reach back in time three years earlier to the moment where this entire story began — a moment that also found me in this exact same posture: on my knees, on a floor, praying.

"The Larger College".
In Classic Shades, and Other Poems (1890)

Source: The Red Pyramid