The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.
A certain portion of the human race has certainly a taste for being diddled.
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.