He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him.

Lucky men are favorites of Heaven.

What judgment I had increases rather than diminishes; and thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me, that my only difficulty is to choose or reject; to run them into verse or to give them the other harmony of prose.

From Harmony, from heav'nly Harmony. This universal Frame began.

Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; And they have kept it since by being dead.

Imitators are but a servile kind of cattle.

Love either finds equality or makes it.