So upright Quakers please both man and God.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.

When to the Permanent is sacrificed the Mutable, the prize is thine: the drop returneth whence it came. The Open Path leads to the changeless change - Non-Being, the glorious state of Absoluteness, the Bliss past human thought.

The nicest constitutions of government are often like the finest pieces of clock-work, which, depending on so many motions, are therefore more subject to be out of order.

Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.