The Finest Poems Of The World Have

A Person Seldom Falls Sick But The Bystanders Are Animated With A Faint Hope That He Will Die.

Nor Sequent Centuries Could Hitorbit And Sum Of Shakespeare's Wit.

The Torpid Artist Seeks Inspiration At Any Cost, By Virtue Or By Vice, By Friend Or By Fiend, By Prayer Or By Wine.

Do The Thing And You Will Have The Power. But They That Do Not The Thing, Had Not The Power.

Not Out Of Those, On Whom Systems Of Education Have Exhausted Their Culture, Comes The Helpful Giant To Destroy The Old Or To Build The New, But Out Of Unhandselled Savage Nature, Out Of Terrible Druids And Berserkirs, Come At Last Alfred And Shakespeare.