Who seems most hideous when adorned the most.
[Lat., Che quant' era piu ornata, era piu brutta.]

Who seems most hideous when adorned the most.
[Lat., Che quant' era piu ornata, era piu brutta.]

Not caring, so that sumpter-horse, the back
Be hung with gaudy trappings, in what course
Yea, rags read more

Not caring, so that sumpter-horse, the back
Be hung with gaudy trappings, in what course
Yea, rags most beggarly, they clothe the soul.

My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdues (what will read more

My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdues (what will not time subdue!)
An horrid chasm disclosed.

When Croft's "Life of Dr. Young" was spoken of as a good
imitation of Dr. Johnson's style, "No, no," read more

When Croft's "Life of Dr. Young" was spoken of as a good
imitation of Dr. Johnson's style, "No, no," said he, "it is not a
good imitation of Johnson; it has all his pomp without his force;
it has all the nodosities of the oak, without its strength; it
has all the contortions of the sibyl, without the inspiration."

I do not go down and sit in front of the computer and make myself write; that's not my style.

I do not go down and sit in front of the computer and make myself write; that's not my style.

To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his
snuff-box, is like giving a pair read more

To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his
snuff-box, is like giving a pair of laced ruffles to a man that
has never a shirt on his back.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

To a woman, the consciousness of being will dressed gives a sense
of tranquility which religion fails to bestow.

To a woman, the consciousness of being will dressed gives a sense
of tranquility which religion fails to bestow.

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his read more

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his fetters. For indeed, Clothes ought
to be our remembrancers of our lost innocency.