Tell That To The Marines - The

Here Is Neither Want Of Appetite Nor Mouths, Pray Heaven We Be Not Scant Of Meat Or Mirth.

Spur Not An Unbroken Horse; Put Not Your Plowshare Too Deep Into New Land.

What An Ornament And Safeguard Is Humor! Far Better Than Wit For A Poet And Writer. It Is A Genius Itself, And So Defends From The Insanities.

Spangling The Wave With Lights As Vain As Pleasures In The Vale Of Pain, That Dazzle As They Fade.

Thou And I Are But The Blind Instruments Of Some Irresistible Fatality, That Hurries Us Along, Like Goodly Vessels Driving Before The Storm, Which Are Dashed Against Each Other, And So Perish.