Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.

When We Risk No Contradiction, It Prompts The Tongue To Deal In Fiction.

Breathe Soft, Ye Winds! Ye Waves, In Silence Sleep!

I Cannot Raise My Worth Too High; Of What Vast Consequence Am I! "not Of The Importance You Suppose," Replies A Flea Upon His Nose; "be Humble, Learn Thyself To Scan; Know, Pride Was Never Made For Man.