We First Make Our Habits, And Then

The Scum That Rises Upmost, When The Nation Boils.

All Empire Is No More Than Power In Trust.

A Happy Genius Is The Gift Of Nature.

Softly Sweet, In Lydian Measures, Soon He Sooth'd His Soul To Pleasures. War, He Sung, Is Toil And Trouble; Honour But An Empty Bubble; Never Ending, Still Beginning, Fighting Still, And Still Destroying. If All The World Be Worth The Winning, Think, Oh Think It Worth Enjoying: Lovely Thais Sits Beside Thee, Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

Whatever Is, Is In Its Causes Just.