Feed The Musician, And He's Out Of

Whatever Amuses, Serves To Kill Time, To Lull The Faculties, And To Banish Reflection. Whatever Entertains, Usually Awakens The Understanding Or Gratifies The Fancy. Whatever Diverts, Is Lively In Its Nature, And Sometimes Tumultuous In Its Effects.

Ease Leads To Habit, As Success To Ease. He Lives By Rule Who Lives Himself To Please.

A Master Passion Is The Love Of News.

A Great Lie Is Like A Great Fish On Dry Land; It May Fret And Fling And Make A Frightful Bother, But It Cannot Hurt You. You Have Only To Keep Still, And It Will Die Of Itself.

When Winter Stern, His Gloomy Front Uprears, A Sable Void The Barren Earth Appears; The Meads No More Their Former Verdure Boast, Fast-bound Their Streams, And All Their Beauty Lost; The Herds, The Flocks, In Icy Garments Mourn, And Wildly Murmur For The Spring's Return; From Snow-topp'd Hills The Whirlwinds Keenly Blow, Howl Through The Woods, And Pierce The Vales Below, Through The Sharp Air A Flaky Torrent Flies, Mocks The Slow Sight, And Hides The Gloomy Skies.