A man in armour is his armour's slave.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
Therefore I summon age / To grant youth's heritage.
Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
What's come to perfection perishes. Things learned on earth we shall practice in heaven; Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.