Such was the language Lord BACON once applied to himself when addressing a king.

"I know," said the great philosopher, "that I am censured of some conceit of my ability or worth; but I pray your majesty impute it to desire--_possunt quia posse videntur_." These men of genius bear a charmed mail on their breast; "hopeless, not heartless," may be often the motto of their ensign; and if they do not always possess reputation, they still look onwards for fame; for these do not necessarily accompany each other.
An author is more sensible of his own merits, as he also is of his labour, which is invisible to all others, while he is unquestionably much less sensible to his defects than most of his readers.

The author not only comprehends his merits better, because they have passed through a long process in his mind, but he is familiar with every part, while the reader has but a vague notion of the whole.

Why does an excellent work, by repetition, rise in interest?
Because in obtaining this gradual intimacy with an author, we appear to recover half the genius which we had lost on a first perusal.

The work of genius too is associated, in the mind of the author, with much more than it contains; and the true supplement, which he only can give, has not always accompanied the work itself.