Nothing Is Denied To Well-directed Labor.

The Great End Of All Arts Is To Make An Impression On The Imagination And The Feeling. The Imitation Of Nature Frequently Does This. Sometimes It Fails And Something Else Succeeds.

Excellence Is Never Granted To Man But As The Reward Of Labor. It Argues No Small Strength Of Mind To Persevere In Habits Of Industry Without The Pleasure Of Perceiving Those Advances, Which, Like The Hand Of A Clock, Whilst They Make Hourly Approaches To Their Point, Yet Proceed So Slowly As To Escape Observation.

Simplicity Is An Exact Mediumbetween Too Little And Too Much.

In The Practice Of Art... It Is Necessary To Keep A Watchful And Jealous Eye Over Ourselves; Idleness, Assuming The Specious Disguise Of Industry... May Be Employed To Evade And Shuffle Off Real Labor - The Real Labor Of Thinking.

A Mere Copier Of Nature Can Never Produce Anything Great.