Fame, we may understand, is no sure test of merit, but only a probability of such; it is an accident, not a property of man.
If a man was great while living, he becomes tenfold greater when dead.
Fame, we may understand, is no sure test of merit, but only a probability of such: it is an accident, not a property, of a man; like light, it can give little or nothing, but at most may show what is given.
Scarcely two hundred years back can Fame recollect articulately at all; and there she but maunders and mumbles.
Money will buy money's worth; but the thing men call fame, what is it?
What a wretched thing is all fame! A renown of the highest sort endures, say, for two thousand years. And then? Why, then, a fathomless eternity swallows it. Work for eternity; not the meagre rhetorical eternity of the periodical critics, but for the real eternity wherein dwelleth the Divine.
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