Fiction is of the essence of poetry as well as of painting; there is a resemblance in one of human bodies, things, and actions which are not real, and in the other of a true story by fiction.

Mighty things from small beginnings grow.

Restless at home, and ever prone to range.

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

Pains of love be sweeter far than all other pleasures are.

The winds are out of breath.

Set all things in their own peculiar place, and know that order is the greatest grace.