You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
[Lat., Libertas et natale solum.]
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
[Lat., Libertas et natale solum.]
With him most authors steal their works, or buy;
Garth did not write his own Dispensary.
With him most authors steal their works, or buy;
Garth did not write his own Dispensary.
The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another read more
The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another wears;
The arms ye forge, another bears.
Because they commonly make use of treasure found in books, as of
other treasure belonging to the dead and read more
Because they commonly make use of treasure found in books, as of
other treasure belonging to the dead and hidden underground; for
they dispose of both with great secrecy, defacing the shape and
image of the one as much as of the other.
Their writings are thoughts stolen from us by anticipation.
[Fr., Leurs ecrits sont des vois qu'ils nous ont faite read more
Their writings are thoughts stolen from us by anticipation.
[Fr., Leurs ecrits sont des vois qu'ils nous ont faite d'avance.]
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,
It has come to be practically a sort of rule in literature, that
a man, having once shown himself read more
It has come to be practically a sort of rule in literature, that
a man, having once shown himself capable of original writing, is
entitled thenceforth to steal from the writings of others at
discretion.
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.]
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.