Feed The Musician, And He's Out Of

Impertinence Will Intermeddle In Things In Which It Has No Concern, Showing A Want Of Breeding, Or, More Commonly, A Spirit Of Sheer Impudence.

See Time Has Touched Me Gently In His Race, And Left No Odious Furrows In My Face.

A Great Lie Is Like A Great Fish On Dry Land; It May Fret And Fling And Make A Frightful Bother, But It Cannot Hurt You. You Have Only To Keep Still, And It Will Die Of Itself.

In General Satire, Every Man Perceives A Slight Attack, Yet Neither Fears Nor Grieves.

Oh, Rather Give Me Commentators Plain, Who With No Deep Researches Vex The Brain; Who From The Dark And Doubtful Love To Run, And Hold Their Glimmering Tapers To The Sun.