My Voice Is Still For War.

The Statue Lies Hid In A Block Of Marble; And The Art Of The Statuary Only Clears Away The Superfluous Matter, And Removes The Rubbish.

Content Thyself To Be Obscurely Good.

Nature In Her Whole Drama Never Drew Such A Part; She Has Sometimes Made A Fool, But A Coxcomb Is Always Of A Man's Own Making.

Upon Laying A Weight In One Of The Scales, Inscribed Eternity, Though I Threw In That Of Time, Prosperity, Affliction, Wealth, And Poverty, Which Seemed Very Ponderous, They Were Not Able To Stir The Opposite Balance.

We Find The Works Of Nature Still More Pleasant, The More They Resemble Those Of Art.