The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.

The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator.

If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick

There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.

Greatness of name, in the father, ofttimes helps not forth, but overwhelms the son: They stand too near one another. The shadow kills the growth.

Confound these ancestors... They've stolen our best ideas!

And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sow'd them with her odorous foot.