Self Praise Is No Praise At All.

And What Is Writ Is Writ - / Would It Were Worthier!

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me.

Had Sigh'd To Many, Though He Loved But One.

This Quiet Sail Is As A Noiseless Wing To Waft Me From Distraction.

As To Don Juan, Confess That It Is The Sublime Of That There Sort Of Writing; It May Be Bawdy, But Is It Not Good English? It May Be Profligate, But Is It Not Life, Is It Not The Thing? Could Any Man Have Written It Who Has Not Lived In The World? And Tooled In A Post-chaise? In A Hackney Coach? In A Gondola? Against A Wall? In A Court Carriage? In A Vis A Vis? On A Table? And Under It?