Never Find Fault With The Absent.

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

Where Beams Of Imagination Play, The Memory's Soft Figures Melt Away.

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast: Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest.

I Believe It Is No Wrong Observation, That Persons Of Genius, And Those Who Are Most Capable Of Art, Are Always Fond Of Nature, As Such Are Chiefly Sensible, That All Art Consists In The Imitation And Study Of Nature. On The Contrary, People Of The Common Level Of Understanding Are Principally Delighted With The Little Niceties And Fantastical Operations Of Art, And Constantly Think That Finest Which Is Least Natural.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.