I can prove anything by statistics except the truth.

I called the New World into existence, to redress the balance of the Old.

So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides The Derby dilly, carrying three INSIDES.

A steady patriot of the world alone, The friend of every country but his own.

Man, only - rash, refined, presumptuous man, Starts from his rank, and mars creation's plan.

Here's to the pilot that weathered the storm.

Away with the cant of 'Measures not men!'-the idle supposition that it is the harness and not the horses that draw the chariot along.