He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. . . . He was naturally learn'd; he needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. . . . He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating in to clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great, when some occasion is presented to him.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, The young men's vision, and the old men's dream!

For mysterious things of faith, rely on the proponent, Heaven's authority.

When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.

One of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which either this age or nation has produced.

Shakespeare was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of the books to read nature; he looked inward, and found her there.

Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.