Gentle Dullness Ever Loves A Joke.

When Two People Compliment Each Other With The Choice Of Anything, Each Of Them Generally Gets That Which He Likes Least.

Heaven Gave To Woman The Peculiar Grace To Spin, To Weep, And Cully Human Race.

Why Did I Write? Whose Sin To Me Unknown Dipt Me In Ink, My Parents', Or My Own? As Yet A Child, Nor Yet A Fool To Fame, I Lisp'd In Numbers, For The Numbers Came.

Alas! The Small Discredit Of A Bribe Scarce Hurts The Lawyer, But Undoes The Scribe.

In Pride, In Reas'ning Pride, Our Error Lies; All Quit Their Sphere And Rush Into The Skies. Pride Still Is Aiming At The Bless'd Abodes, Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be Gods.