To Die For Faction Is A Common

Imagining Is In Itself The Very Height And Life Of Poetry, Which, By A Kind Of Enthusiasm Or Extraordinary Emotion Of The Soul, Makes It Seem To Us That We Behold Those Things Which The Poet Paints.

I'm A Little Wounded, But I Am Not Slain; I Will Lay Me Down To Bleed A While. Then I'll Rise And Fight Again.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

To Tame The Proud, The Fetter'd Slave To Free, These Are Imperial Arts.

Nor Is The People's Judgment Always True: The Most May Err As Grossly As The Few.