Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?
Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so.
The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!
I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff- box from an emperor.