The heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns. - Lord Byron

If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one; and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.

Is yet within the unread events of time.
Thus far, go forth, thou lay, which I will back
Against the same given quantity of rhyme,
For being as much the subject of attack
As ever yet was any work sublime,
By those who love to say that white is black.
So much the better! — I may stand alone,
But would not change my free thoughts for a throne.

Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.