Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand.
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.
Imitation is criticism.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.