Paradise Lost Is A Book That, Once

Come, Let Me Know What It Is That Makes A Scotch Man Happy!

To Expect That The Intricacies Of Science Will Be Pierced By A Careless Glance, Or The Eminences Of Fame Ascended Without Labour, Is To Expect A Peculiar Privilege, A Power Denied To The Rest Of Mankind; But To Suppose That The Maze Is Inscrutable To Diligence, Or The Heights Inaccessible To Perseverance, Is To Submit Tamely To The Tyranny Of Fancy, And Enchain The Mind In Voluntary Shackles.

No Man Can Taste The Fruits Of Autumn While He Is Delighting His Scent With The Flowers Of Spring.

Sir, What Is Poetry? Why, Sir, It Is Much Easier To Say What It Is Not. We All Know What Light Is; But It Is Not Easy To Tell What It Is.

An Englishman Is Content To Say Nothing When He Has Nothing To Say.