Till Quotes - page 3
Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellow'd long, Even wonder'd at, because he dropp'd no sooner. Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years, Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more Till like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
John Dryden
Commerce is so far from being beneficial to arts, or to empire, that it is destructive of both, as all their history shows, for the above reason of individual merit being its great hatred. Empires flourish till they become commercial, and then they are scattered abroad to the four winds.
William Blake
