When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree
Truth can never be told so as to be understood and not be believed.
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
Where cheating is, there's mischief there.
How have you left the ancient love That bards of old enjoyed in you! The languid strings do scarcely move! The sound is forced, the notes are few!
Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.