The Archer Who Overshoots His Mark Does

Our Truth Of Nowadays Is Not What Is, But What Others Can Be Convinced Of; Just As We Call "money" Not Only That Which Is Legal, But Also Any Counterfeit That Will Pass.

We Find Ourselves More Taken With The Running Up And Down, The Games, And Puerile Simplicities Of Our Children, Than We Do, Afterward, With Their Most Complete Actions; As If We Had Loved Them For Our Sport, Like Monkeys, And Not As Men.

T Is One And The Same Nature That Rolls On Her Course, And Whoever Has Sufficiently Considered The Present State Of Things Might Certainly Conclude As To Both The Future And The Past.

No Man Dies Before His Hour. The Time You Leave Behind Was No More Yours, Than That Which Was Before Your Birth, And Concerneth You No More.

We Have More Poets Than Judges And Interpreters Of Poetry. It Is Easier To Write An Indifferent Poem Than To Understand A Good One. There Is, Indeed, A Certain Low And Moderate Sort Of Poetry, That A Man May Well Enough Judge By Certain Rules Of Art; But The True, Supreme, And Divine Poesy Is Equally Above All Rules And Reason. And Whoever Discerns The Beauty Of It With The Most Assured And Most Steady Sight Sees No More Than The Quick Reflection Of A Flash Of Lightning.