How is it that little children are so intelligent and men so stupid? It must be education that does it.

How is it that little children are so intelligent and men so stupid? It must be education that does it.

I would live to study, and not study to live.

I would live to study, and not study to live.

I can find my biography in every fable that I read.

I can find my biography in every fable that I read.

Time the great destroyer of other men's happiness, only enlarges
the patrimony of literature to its possessor.

Time the great destroyer of other men's happiness, only enlarges
the patrimony of literature to its possessor.

If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no read more

If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no other choice. Failing this duty, he sinks into oblivion. Society, on the other hand, has no obligation toward the poet. A majority by definition, society thinks of itself as having other options than reading verses, no matter how well written. Its failure to do so results in its sinking to that level of locution at which society falls easy prey to a demagogue or a tyrant. This is society's own equivalent of oblivion.

I am grieved that it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses. Well, as he brews, read more

I am grieved that it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses. Well, as he brews, so shall he drink, for George again. Yet he shall hear on't, and tightly, too, an' I live, i'faith. - Every Man In His Humor.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?Since sorrow never comes too late,And happiness too swiftly flies.Thought would destroy their read more

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?Since sorrow never comes too late,And happiness too swiftly flies.Thought would destroy their paradise.No more; where ignorance is bliss,'Tis folly to be wise. - Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.