Love Is A Child That Talks In

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.

Men Are But Children Of A Larger Growth, Our Appetites As Apt To Change As Theirs, And Full As Craving Too, And Full As Vain.

If Passion Rules, How Weak Does Reason Prove!

He Wants Worth Who Dares Not Praise A Foe.

Secret Guilt Is By Silence Revealed.