The Burnt Child Dreads The

Ods Me I Marle What Pleasure Or Felicity They Have In Taking Their Roguish Tobacco. It Is Good For Nothing But To Choke A Man, And Fill Him Full Of Smoke And Embers.

Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes, And I Will Pledge With Mine; Or Leave A Kiss But In The Cup And I'll Not Look For Wine.

He Was Not Of An Age, But For All Time!

If Men Will Impartially, And Not Asquint, Look Toward The Offices And Function Of A Poet, They Will Easily Conclude To Themselves The Impossibility Of Any Man's Being A Good Poet Without First Being A Good Man.

All Concord's Born Of Contraries.