O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
All things come round to him who will but wait.
The secret studies of an author are the sunken piers upon which is to rest the bridge of his fame, spanning the dark waters of oblivion. They are out of sight, but without them no superstructure can stand secure.
The country is not priest-ridded, but press-ridden.
The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.
Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work rather that its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as a bad heart of Procreates turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture.