Expression Is The Dress Of Thought.

Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

But Satan Now Is Wiser Than Of Yore, And Tempts By Making Rich, Not Making Poor.

Nay, Fly To Altars; There They'll Talk You Dead; For Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread.

For What I Have Publish'd, I Can Only Hope To Be Pardon'd; But For What I Have Burned, I Deserve To Be Prais'd.

What's Fame? A Fancy'd Life In Other's Breath. A Thing Beyond Us, Even Before Our Death.