He That Thinks He Can

I Have Protracted My Work Till Most Of Those Whom I Wished To Please Have Sunk Into The Grave, And Success And Miscarriage Are Empty Sounds: I Therefore Dismiss It With Frigid Tranquillity, Having Little To Fear Or Hope From Censure Or From Praise.

What Is Said Upon A Subject Is Gathered From An Hundred People.

The Vicious Count Their Years; Virtuous, Their Acts.

To A Poet Nothing Can Be Useless.

The Roads Of Science Are Narrow, So That They Who Travel Them, Must Wither Follow Or Meet One Another.