Literature Is A Great Staff, But A

O! Many A Shaft, At Random Sent, Finds Mark The Archer Little Meant! And Many A Word, At Random Spoken, May Soothe Or Wound A Heart That's Broken!

Contentions Fierce, Ardent, And Dire, Spring From No Petty Cause.

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

There Is A Vulgar Incredulity, Which In Historical Matters, As Well As In Those Of Religion, Finds It Easier To Doubt Than To Examine.

We Are Like The Herb Which Flourisheth Most When It Is Most Trampled On.