Wit Is The Lowest Form Of Humor.

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

Words Are Like Leaves; And Where They Most Abound, Much Fruit Of Sense Beneath Is Rarely Found.

Trust Not Yourself, But Your Defects To Know, Make Use Of Every Friend And Every Foe.

Such As Are Still Observing Upon Others Are Like Those Who Are Always Abroad At Other Men's Houses, Reforming Everything There While Their Own Runs To Ruin.

Of All Affliction Taught A Lover Yet, 'tis True The Hardest Science To Forget.