Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
Whether the charmer sinner it, or saint it, If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
Never find fault with the absent.
Love the offender, yet detest the offense.