Tis All In Vain To Keep A

Condition, Circumstance, Is Not The Thing; Bliss Is The Same In Subject Or In King.

Fame, Wealth, And Honour! What Are You To Love?

Praise Is Like Ambergrease: A Little Whiff Of It, And By Snatches, Is Very Agreeable; But When A Man Holds A Whole Lump Of It To Your Nose, It Is A Stink, And Strikes You Down.

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

To Err Is Human; To Forgive, Divine.