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Soul of the Age!
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare...
Thou art a monument, without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
--
Ben Jonson, To the Memory of my Beloved, the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare (1623).

 

William Shakespeare

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As he that doth not eat when he should, may have no Stomach when he is weak, but presently vomits up his Food again ; so if thou studiest not the Art of Patience, and preparest not thy mind before-hand, and takest not in Grounds of Consolation, till thou art in Troubles, and hast need of great Comfort, thou wilt find thy Soul very impatient of Remedies, and 'twill be irksome to thee but even to read such Things as should quiet thee.

 

Thomas (writer) Fuller

 

What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones
The labors of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid
Under a starre-y-pointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hath built thyself a livelong monument.

 

William Shakespeare

 

I don't know if Native Son is a good book or a bad book. And I don't know if the book I'm working on now will be a good book or a bad book. And I really don't care. The mere writing of it will be more fun and a deeper satisfaction than any praise or blame from anybody. I feel that I'm lucky to be alive to write novels today, when the whole world is caught in the pangs of war and change.

 

Richard Wright

 

My thoughts hold mortal strife;
I do detest my life,
And with lamenting cries
Peace to my soul to bring
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise:
— But he, grim-grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

 

William Drummond

 

Where dost thou careless lie,
Buried in ease and sloth?
Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;
And this security,
It is the common moth,
That eats on wits and arts, and oft destroys them both.

 

Ben Jonson