In After-life You May Have Friends--fond, Dear

Boswell Is The First Of Biographers.

Cut Off My Head, And Singular I Am, Cut Off My Tail, And Plural I Appear; Although My Middle's Left, There's Nothing There! What Is My Head Cut Off? A Sounding Sea; What Is My Tail Cut Off? A Rushing River; And In Their Mingling Depths I Fearless Play, Parent Of Sweetest Sounds, Yet Mute Forever.

What A Singular Destiny Has Been That Of This Remarkable Man!-to Be Regarded In His Own Age As A Classic, And In Ours As A Companion! To Receive From His Contemporaries That Full Homage Which Men Of Genius Have In General Received Only From Posterity; To Be More Intimately Known To Posterity Than Other Men Are Known To Their Contemporaries!

Knowledge Advances By Steps, And Not By Leaps.

The Business Of The Dramatist Is To Keep Himself Out Of Sight, And To Let Nothing Appear But His Characters. As Soon As He Attracts Notice To His Personal Feelings, The Illusion Is Broken.