Fame Can Never Make Us Lie Down

Passions Are The Gales Of Life.

Give Me Again My Hollow Tree A Crust Of Bread, And Liberty!

A Pear-tree Planted Nigh: 'twas Charg'd With Fruit That Made A Goodly Show, And Hung With Dangling Pears Was Every Bough.

The Hungry Judges Soon The Sentence Sign, And Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.