He Who Destroys A Good Book Kills

Th'invention All Admir'd, And Each, How He To Be Th'inventor Miss'd; So Easy It Seem'd Once Found, Which Yet Unfound Most Would Have Thought Impossible.

This Is Servitude, To Serve Th'unwise, Or Him Who Hath Rebelled Against His Worthier, As Thine Now Serve Thee, Thyself Not Free, But To Thyself Enthralled.

Still Paying, Still To Owe. Eternal Woe!

If Weakness May Excuse, What Murderer, What Traitor, Parricide, Incestuous, Sacrilegious, But May Plead It? All Wickedness Is Weakness; That Plea, Therefore, With God Or Man Will Gain Thee No Remission.

Athens, The Eye Of Greece, Mother Of Arts And Eloquence.