Earth, With Her Thousand Voices, Praises God.

With No Other Privilege Than That Of Sympathy And Sincere Good Wishes, I Would Address An Affectionate Exhortation To The Youthful Literati, Grounded On My Own Experience. It Will Be But Short; For The Beginning, Middle, And End Converge To One Charge: Never Pursue Literature As A Trade.

The Author Of Biographia Literaria Was Already A Ruined Man. Sometimes, However, To Be A "ruined Man" Is Itself A Vocation.

The First Man Of Science Was He Who Looked Into A Thing, Not To Learn Whether It Furnished Him With Food, Or Shelter, Or Weapons, Or Tools, Armaments, Or Playwiths But Who Sought To Know It For The Gratification Of Knowing.

Work Without Hope Draws Nectar In A Sieve, And Hope Without An Object Cannot Live.

Nothing Can Permanently Please, Which Doesn't Contain In Itself The Reason Why It Is So, And Not Otherwise.