Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.

Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Imitation pleases, because it affords matter for inquiring into the truth or falsehood of imitation, by comparing its likeness or unlikeness with the original.

For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.

And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.

For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.

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