True Melancholy Breeds Your Perfect Fine Wit.

Ambition, Like A Torrent, Never Looks Back.

Confound These Ancestors... They've Stolen Our Best Ideas!

Popular Men, They Must Create Strange Monsters, And Then Quell Them, To Make Their Arts Seem Something.

He Threatens Many That Hath Injured One.

That Praises Are Without Reason Lavished On The Dead, And That The Honours Due Only To Are Paid To Antiquity, Is A Complaint Likely To Be Always Continued By Those Who, Being Able To Add Nothing To Truth, Hope For Eminence From The Heresies Of Paradox; Or Those Who, Being Forced By Disappointment Upon Consolatory Expedients, Are Willing To Hope From Posterity What The Present Age Refuses, And Flatter Themselves That The Regard Which Is Yet Denied By Envy Will Be At Last Bestowed By Time.