Who often reads, will sometimes wish to write.
'T was good advice, and meant, my son, Be good.
Life's bloomy flush was lost.
Habit with him was all the test of truth; It must be right: I've done it from my youth.
A great lie is like a great fish on dry land; it may fret and fling and make a frightful bother, but it cannot hurt you. You have only to keep still, and it will die of itself.
In idle wishes, fools supinely stay. Be there a will and wisdom finds a way.