Reason Saw Not, Till Faith Sprung The

All The Learn'd Are Cowards By Profession.

I Am Reading Jonson's Verses To The Memory Of Shakespeare; An Insolent, Sparing, And Invidious Panegyric.

Virgil, Above All Poets, Had A Stock Which I May Call Almost Inexhaustible, Of Figurative, Elegant, And Sounding Words.

For Truth Has Such A Face And Such A Mien, As To Be Loved Needs Only To Be Seen.

But How Can Finite Grasp Infinity?