Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year.
Who fears not to do ill fears the name, And free from conscience, is a slave to fame.
The man who first abused his fellows with swear-words instead of bashing their brains out with a club should be counted among those who laid the foundations of civilization.
Nor ought a genius less than his that writ attempt translation.
We are never like angels till our passion dies.
Poetry is of so subtle a spirit, that in the pouring out of one language into another it will evaporate.