Ill Fares The State Where Many Masters

A Decent Boldness Ever Meets With Friends.

Earth Sounds My Wisdom, And High Heaven My Fame.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows; One Should Our Interests And Our Passions Be, My Friend Must Hate The Man That Injures Me.

In Every Sorrowing Soul I Pour'd Delight, And Poverty Stood Smiling In My Sight.

If They Think I'm Going To Stop At That Stop Sign, They're Mistaken!