The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home,

Count All Th' Advantage Prosperous Vice Attains, 'tis But What Virtue Flies From And Disdains: And Grant The Bad What Happiness They Would, One They Must Want--which Is, To Pass For Good.

Those Oft Are Stratagems Which Errors Seem Nor Is It Homer Nods, But We That Dream.

The Learned Is Happy, Nature To Explore; The Fool Is Happy, That He Knows No More.

Virtue Alone Is Happiness Below.

Great Oaks Grow From Little Acorns. He Has A Green Thumb. He Has Green Fingers. He's Sowing His Wild Oats. Here Ceres' Gifts In Waving Prospect Stand, And Nodding Tempt The Joyful Reaper's Hand.