Men Are But Children Of

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind!

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus Cries, See The Furies Arise!

Fiction Is Of The Essence Of Poetry As Well As Of Painting; There Is A Resemblance In One Of Human Bodies, Things, And Actions Which Are Not Real, And In The Other Of A True Story By Fiction.

If Thou Dost Still Retain The Same Ill Habits, The Same Follies, Too, Still Thou Art Bound To Vice, And Still A Slave.

If We From Wealth To Poverty Descend, Want Gives To Know The Flatterer From The Friend.