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.]

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.]

My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is
yours stands up against you read more

My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is
yours stands up against you and says, "You are a thief."

The Plagiarism of orators is the art, or an ingenious and easy
mode, which some adroitly employ to change, read more

The Plagiarism of orators is the art, or an ingenious and easy
mode, which some adroitly employ to change, or disguise, all
sorts of speeches or their own composition, or that of other
authors, for their pleasure, or their utility; in such a manner
that it becomes impossible even for the author himself to
recognize his own work, his own genius, and his own style, so
skillfully shall the whole be disguised.
- Isaac D'Israeli,

He liked those literary cooks
Who skim the cream of others' books;
And ruin half an author's read more

He liked those literary cooks
Who skim the cream of others' books;
And ruin half an author's graces
By plucking bon-mots from their places.

The bees pillage the flowers here and there but they make honey
of them which is all their own; read more

The bees pillage the flowers here and there but they make honey
of them which is all their own; it is no longer thyme or
marjolaine: so the pieces borrowed from others he will transform
and mix up into a work all his own.
[Fr., Les abeilles pillotent deca dela les fleurs; mais elles en
font aprez le miel, qui est tout leur; ce n'est plus thym, ny
marjolaine: ainsi les pieces empruntees d'aultruy, il les
transformera et confondra pour en faire un ouvrage tout sien.]

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.

Who, to patch up his fame--or fill his purse--
Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse;
read more

Who, to patch up his fame--or fill his purse--
Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse;
Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known,
Defacing first, then claiming for his own.

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.