Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's read more

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die;Lord have mercy on us. - Song in Time of Pestilence.

Literature becomes the living memory of a nation.

Literature becomes the living memory of a nation.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work read more

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work of art is an invention distinctive enough to be patented.

The poets did well to conjoin music and medicine, because the office of medicine is but to tune the curious read more

The poets did well to conjoin music and medicine, because the office of medicine is but to tune the curious harp of man's body.

And He shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, read more

And He shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. - Isaiah 2:4.

You are educated when you have the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or self-confidence.

You are educated when you have the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or self-confidence.

The great Creator to revereMust sure become the creature;But still the preaching cant forbear,And ev'n the rigid feature:Yet ne'er with read more

The great Creator to revereMust sure become the creature;But still the preaching cant forbear,And ev'n the rigid feature:Yet ne'er with wits profane to rangeBe complaisance extended;An atheist laugh's a poor exchangeFor deity offended. - Epistle to a Young Friend, An.

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.