A Life All Turbulence And Noise May

But War's A Game, Which, Were Their Subjects Wise, Kings Should Not Play At. Nations Would Do Well To Extort Their Truncheons From The Puny Hands Of Heroes, Whose Infirm And Baby Minds Are Gratified With Mischief, And Who Spoil, Because Men Suffer It, Their Toy The World.

No Wisdom That She May Gain By Experience And Reflection Hereafter, Will Compensate The Loss Of Her Present Hilarity.

Words Learn'd By Rote A Parrot May Rehearse, But Talking Is Not Always To Converse, Not More Distinct From Harmony Divine The Constant Creaking Of A Country Sign.

Fancy, Like The Finger Of A Clock, Runs The Great Circuit, And Is Still At Home.

Happy The Man Who Sees A God Employed In All The Good And Ills That Checker Life.