On Wrongs Swift Vengeance Waits.

And Each Blasphemer Quite Escape The Rod, Because The Insult's Not On Man, But God?

The Bookful Blockhead Ignorantly Read, With Loads Of Learned Lumber In His Head, With His Own Tongue Still Edifies His Ears, And Always List'ning To Himself Appears. All Books He Reads, And All He Reads Assails.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Of It Deeply, Or Taste It Not, For Shallow Thoughts Intoxicate The Brain, And Drinking Deeply Sobers Us Again.

The Blest To-day Is As Completely So, As Who Began A Thousand Years Ago.

Who Are Next To Knaves? Those That Converse With Them.