The large and gigantic, though very compatible with the sublime, is contrary to the beautiful.

It is impossible to suppose a giant the object of love.

When we let our imagination loose in romance, the ideas we naturally annex to that size are those of tyranny, cruelty, injustice, and everything horrid and abominable.

We paint the giant ravaging the country, plundering the innocent traveller, and afterwards gorged with his half-living flesh: such are Polyphemus, Cacus, and others, who make so great a figure in romances and heroic poems.

The event we attend to with the greatest satisfaction is their defeat and death.