Of Fight Or Fly, This Choice Is

Pretty! In Amber To Observe The Forms Of Hairs, Of Straws, Or Dirt, Or Grubs, Or Worms! The Things, We Know, Are Neither Rich Nor Rare, But Wonder How The Devil They Got There.

Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.

Therefore They Who Say Our Thoughts Are Not Our Own Because They Resemble The Ancients, May As Well Say Our Faces Are Not Our Own, Because They Are Like Our Fathers: And Indeed It Is Very Unreasonable, That People Should Expect Us To Be Scholars, And Yet Be Angry To Find Us So.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.