Ye Gods, Annihilate But Space And Time,

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well?

The Nicest Constitutions Of Government Are Often Like The Finest Pieces Of Clock-work, Which, Depending On So Many Motions, Are Therefore More Subject To Be Out Of Order.

Wise Wretch! With Pleasures Too Refined To Please, With Too Much Spirit To Be E'er At Ease, With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught, With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought: You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give, And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

Time Conquers All, And We Must Time Obey.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.