I strove with none, for none was worth my strife. Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art: I warm'd both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

Great men too often have greater faults than little men can find room for.

Immoderate power, like other intemperance, leaves the progeny weaker and weaker, until nature as in compassion covers it with her mantle and it is seen no more.

He who brings ridicule to bear against truth finds in his hand a blade without a hilt.

He who first praises a book becomingly is next in merit to the author.

Greatness, as we daily see it, is unsociable.

The tomb is the pedestal of greatness. I make a distinction between God's great and the king's great.