Pride, Where Wit Fails, Steps

How Do We Know That We Have A Right To Kill Creatures That We Are So Little Above, As Dogs, For Our Curiosity Or Even For Some Use To Us?

As With Narrow-necked Bottles; The Less They Have In Them, The More Noise They Make In Pouring Out.

A Family Is But Too Often A Commonwealth Of Malignants.

Pride, Where Wit Fails, Steps In To Our Defence, And Fills Up All The Mighty Void Of Sense.

To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul, Where No Carnation Fades.