Kill No More Pigeons Than You Can

Some Books We Read, Tho' Few There Are That Hit The Happy Point Where Wisdom Joins With Wit.

In Other Men We Faults Can Spy,/ And Blame The Mote That Dims Their Eye;/ Each Little Speck And Blemish Find;/ To Our Own Stronger Errors Blind.

Reckless Youth Makes Rueful Age.

He That Speaks Much, Is Much Mistaken.

Write With The Learned, Pronounce With The Vulgar.