No Craving Void Left Aching In The

No Writing Is Good That Does Not Tend To Better Mankind In Some Way Or Other.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be.

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.

Behold The Groves That Shine With Silver Frost, Their Beauty Withered, And Their Verdure Lost!

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.