Dancing Is The Poetry Of The Foot.

To Breed Up The Son To Common Sense Is Evermore The Parent's Least Expense.

Only Man Clogs His Happiness With Care, Destroying What Is With Thoughts Of What May Be.

If The Faults Of Men In Orders Are Only To Be Judged Among Themselves, They Are All In Some Sort Parties; For, Since They Say The Honour Of Their Order Is Concerned In Every Member Of It, How Can We Be Sure That They Will Be Impartial Judges?

I Saw Myself The Lambent Easy Light Gild The Brown Horror, And Dispel The Night.

Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind Grave Shuts Up The Mournful Scene.