One Cause, Which Is Not Always Observed,

Self-love Is A Busy Prompter.

I Will Be Conquered; I Will Not Capitulate.

To Expect That The Intricacies Of Science Will Be Pierced By A Careless Glance, Or The Eminences Of Fame Ascended Without Labour, Is To Expect A Peculiar Privilege, A Power Denied To The Rest Of Mankind; But To Suppose That The Maze Is Inscrutable To Diligence, Or The Heights Inaccessible To Perseverance, Is To Submit Tamely To The Tyranny Of Fancy, And Enchain The Mind In Voluntary Shackles.

It Is As Bad As Bad Can Be: It Is Ill-fed, Ill-killed, Ill-kept, And Ill-drest.

Poetry Is The Art Of Uniting Pleasure With Truth.