Tender are a mother's dreams, But her babe's not what he seems. See him plotting in his mind To grow up some other kind.

I was different unique and always happy. At school this attracted playground harassment. Nowadays, while I remain effervescent, quicker to perceive enmity I reserve my warmest touches and smiles for those who smolder with envy.

Reason is the servant of instinct.

There is an art of reading, as well as an art of thinking, and an art of writing.

When eras die, their legacies Are left to strange police. Professors in New England guard The glory that was Greece.

The egg it is the source of all. Tis everyone's ancestral hall. The bravest chief that ever fought, The lowest thief that e'er was caught, The harlot's lip, the maiden's leg, They each and all came from an egg.

The poets of each generation seldom sing a new song. They turn to themes men always have loved, and sing them in the mode of their times.