Soul of the Age! / The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! / My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by / Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie / A little further, to make thee a room; / Thou art a monument without a tomb.

Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance .

You learn nothing about someone by the way they win the fight, you learn everything about the way they lose and keep coming back.

Popular men, They must create strange monsters, and then quell them, To make their arts seem something.