I Must Be Cruel, Only To Be

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.

Do As The Heavens Have Done, Forget Your Evil; With Them Forgive Yourself.

For 'tis The Sport To Have The Engineerhoist With His Own Petard.

We Suffer A Lot The Few Things We Lack And We Enjoy Too Little The Many Things We Have.

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.