Mute though his lips be, yet they still speak. Hushed is his voice, but its echoes of liberty are ringing through the world, and the sons of bondage listen with joy. – Matthew Simpson
The public history of all countries, and all ages, is but a sort of mask, richly colored. The interior working of the machinery must be foul. – John Quincy Adams
And at least in poetry you should feel free to lie. That is, not to lie, but to imagine what you want, to follow the direction of the poem. – Mark Strand
