Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Ambition is a meteor-gleam; Fame a restless airy dream; Pleasures, insects on the wing Round Peace, th' tend rest flow'r of spring.
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.
A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.
I'm truly sorry man's dominion has broken Nature's social union.
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises.