What Nothing Earthly Gives, Or

Jarring Interests Of Themselves Create The According Music Of A Well-mixed State.

Education Forms The Common Mind. Just As The Twig Is Bent, The Tree's Inclined.

In Every Work Regard The Writer's End, Since None Can Compass More Than They Intend.

Wise Wretch! With Pleasures Too Refined To Please, With Too Much Spirit To Be E'er At Ease, With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught, With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought: You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give, And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

On Life's Vast Ocean Diversely We Sail, Reason The Card, But Passion Is The Gale; Nor God Alone In The Still Calm We Find, He Mounts The Storm, And Walks Upon The Wind.