Of All The Fools That Pride Can

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

Around The Steel No Tortur'd Worm Shall Twine, No Blood Of Living Insect Stain My Line; Let Me, Less Cruel, Cast The Feather'd Hook, With Pliant Rod Athwart The Pebbled Brook, Silent Along The Mazy Margin Stray, And With The Fur-wrought Fly Delude The Prey.

When We Risk No Contradiction, It Prompts The Tongue To Deal In Fiction.

In Love We Are All Fools Alike.

Fair Is The Kingcup That In Meadow Blows, Fair Is The Daisy That Beside Her Grows.