Wit Is The Lowest Form Of Humor.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

Extremes In Nature Equal Ends Produce; In Man They Join To Some Mysterious Use.

O Peace! How Many Wars Were Waged In Thy Name.

Awake, My St. John! Leave All Meaner Things To Low Ambition And The Pride Of Kings. Let Us (since Life Can Little More Supply Than Just To Look About Us, And To Die) Expatiate Free O'er All This Scene Of Man; A Mighty Maze! But Not Without A Plan.

Plays Round The Head, But Comes Not To The Heart. One Self-approving Hour Whole Years Outweighs Of Stupid Starers And Of Loud Huzzas; And More True Joy Marcellus Exil'd Feels Than Cæsar With A Senate At His Heels. In Parts Superior What Advantage Lies? Tell (for You Can) What Is It To Be Wise? 't Is But To Know How Little Can Be Known; To See All Others' Faults, And Feel Our Own.