We can say nothing but what hath been said . . . Our poets steal
from Homer . . read more

We can say nothing but what hath been said . . . Our poets steal
from Homer . . . . Our storydressers do as much; he that comes
last is commonly best.

Perish those who said our good things before we did.
[Lat., Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerent.]

Perish those who said our good things before we did.
[Lat., Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerent.]

Take the whole range of imaginative literature, and we are all
wholesale borrowers. In every matter that relates to read more

Take the whole range of imaginative literature, and we are all
wholesale borrowers. In every matter that relates to invention,
to use, or beauty or form, we are borrowers.

He that readeth good writers and pickes out their flowres for his
own nose, is lyke a foole.

He that readeth good writers and pickes out their flowres for his
own nose, is lyke a foole.

Steal!--to be sure they may; and egad, serve your best thoughts
as gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them to read more

Steal!--to be sure they may; and egad, serve your best thoughts
as gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make 'em pass
for their own.

I recover my property wherever I find it.
[Fr., Je reprends mon bien ou je le trouve.]

I recover my property wherever I find it.
[Fr., Je reprends mon bien ou je le trouve.]

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole;
How read more

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole;
How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug,
And suck'd all o'er like an industrious bug.

When Shakespeare is charges with debts to his authors, Landor
replies, "Yet he was more original than his originals. read more

When Shakespeare is charges with debts to his authors, Landor
replies, "Yet he was more original than his originals. He
breathed upon dead bodies and brought them into life."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson,

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea;
An' what he read more

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea;
An' what he thought 'e might require,
'E went an' took--the same as me.