Silence In Woman Is Like

Drink Today, And Drown All Sorrow; You Shall Perhaps Not Do It Tomorrow; Best, While You Have It, Use Your Breath; There Is No Drinking After Death.

Whosoever Loves Not Picture Is Injurious To Truth, And All The Wisdom Of Poetry. Picture Is The Invention Of Heaven, The Most Ancient And Most Akin To Nature. It Is Itself A Silent Work, And Always One And The Same Habit.

He That Would Have His Virtue Published, Is Not The Servant Of Virtue, But Glory.

Cares That Have Entered Once In The Breast, Will Have Whole Possession Of The Rest.

Soul Of The Age! The Applause, Delight, The Wonder Of Our Stage! My Shakespeare , Rise; I Will Not Lodge Thee By Chaucer Or Spenser , Or Bid Beaumont Lie A Little Further, To Make Thee A Room; Thou Art A Monument, Without A Tomb, And Art Alive Still, While Thy Book Doth Live, And We Have Wits To Read , And Praise To Give .