Ill writers are usually the sharpest censors.

Ill writers are usually the sharpest censors.

A servile race
Who, in mere want of fault, all merit place;
Who blind obedience pay to read more

A servile race
Who, in mere want of fault, all merit place;
Who blind obedience pay to ancient schools,
Bigots to Greece, and slaves to musty rules.

What distinguishes modern art from the art of other ages is criticism.

What distinguishes modern art from the art of other ages is criticism.

How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct.

How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where read more

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

The most noble criticism is that in which the critic is not the
antagonist so much as the rival read more

The most noble criticism is that in which the critic is not the
antagonist so much as the rival of the author.

A man must serve his time to every trade
Save censure--critics all are ready made.
Take hackney'd read more

A man must serve his time to every trade
Save censure--critics all are ready made.
Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote,
With just enough of learning to misquote;
A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault;
A turn for punning, call it Attic salt;
To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet,
His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet;
Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit;
Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit;
Care not for feeling--pass your proper jest,
And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.

Who shall dispute what the Reviewers say?
Their word's sufficient; and to ask a reason,
In such read more

Who shall dispute what the Reviewers say?
Their word's sufficient; and to ask a reason,
In such a state as theirs, is downright treason.

There are come Critics so with Spleen diseased,
They scarcely come inclining to be pleased:
And sure read more

There are come Critics so with Spleen diseased,
They scarcely come inclining to be pleased:
And sure he must have more than mortal Skill,
Who please one against his Will.