Our judgment ripens; our imagination decays. We cannot at once enjoy the flowers of the Spring of life and the fruits of its Autumn.
Even Holland and Spain have been positively, though not relatively, advancing.
Shakespeare has had neither equal nor second.
Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.
A page digested is better than a volume hurriedly read.
Those who seem to load the public taste are, in general, merely outrunning it in the direction which it is spontaneously pursuing.