Old As I Am, For Ladies' Love

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.

Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.

Time Glides With Undiscover'd Haste; The Future But A Length Behind The Past.

The Conscience Of A People Is Their Power.

Imagination In A Poet Is A Faculty So Wild And Lawless That, Like A High Ranging Spaniel, It Must Have Clogs Tied To It, Lest It Outrun The Judgment. The Great Easiness Of Blank Verse Renders The Poet Too Luxuriant. He Is Tempted To Say Many Things Which Might Better Be Omitted, Or, At Least Shut Up In Fewer Words.