In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.
Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.
A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
Silence 'tis awe decrees.