Our poetry in the eighteenth century was prose; our prose in the
seventeenth, poetry.

Our poetry in the eighteenth century was prose; our prose in the
seventeenth, poetry.

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to read more

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Hell; the door of dark Dis stands open day and night. But to retrace your steps and come out to the air above, that is work, that is labor! - Aeneid, The.

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.

When a man can observe himself suffering and is able, later, to describe what he's gone through, it means he read more

When a man can observe himself suffering and is able, later, to describe what he's gone through, it means he was born for literature.

I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp read more

I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

Learning why one great book is just like every other great book is the key to understanding literature

Learning why one great book is just like every other great book is the key to understanding literature

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, read more

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest.

Literature is mostly about sex and not much about having children; and life is the other way around.

Literature is mostly about sex and not much about having children; and life is the other way around.