Lights Of The World, And Stars Of

But War's A Game, Which, Were Their Subjects Wise, Kings Should Not Play At. Nations Would Do Well To Extort Their Truncheons From The Puny Hands Of Heroes, Whose Infirm And Baby Minds Are Gratified With Mischief, And Who Spoil, Because Men Suffer It, Their Toy The World.

We Turn To Dust, And All Our Mightiest Works Die Too.

Whoever Keeps An Open Ear For Tattlers Will Be Sure To Hear The Trumpet Of Contention.

An Inadvertent Step May Crush The Snail That Crawls At Evening In The Public Path. But He That Has Humanity, Forewarned, Will Turn Aside And Let The Reptile Live.

Man On The Dubious Waves Of Error Toss'd.