He is praised by some, blamed by others.

Poetry is like painting: one piece takes your fancy if you stand close to it, another if you keep at some distance.

And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low mimic follies of a farce, As a grave matron would to dance with girls.

Fortune, delighting in her cruel task, and playing her wanton game untiringly, is ever shifting her uncertain favours.

Teaching brings out innate powers, and proper training braces the intellect.

Remember to keep the mind calm in difficult moments.

When I struggle to be terse, I end by being obscure.