The Voice Of Honest Indignation Is The

My Silks And Fine Array, My Smiles And Languished Air, By Love Are Driv'n Away And Mournful Lean Despair Brings Me Yew To Deck My Grave: Such End True Lovers Have.

He Who Desires, But Acts Not, Breeds Pestilence.

Commerce Is So Far From Being Beneficial To Arts, Or To Empire, That It Is Destructive Of Both, As All Their History Shows, For The Above Reason Of Individual Merit Being Its Great Hatred. Empires Flourish Till They Become Commercial, And Then They Are Scattered Abroad To The Four Winds.

Mercy Is The Golden Chain By Which Society Is Bound Together.

One Power Alone Makes A Poet: Imagination. The Divine Vision.