Samuel Butler

And poets by their sufferings grow,--
As if there were no more to do,
To make a read more

And poets by their sufferings grow,--
As if there were no more to do,
To make a poet excellent,
But only want and discontent.

Authority intoxicates,
And makes mere sots of magistrates;
The fumes of it invade the brain,
read more

Authority intoxicates,
And makes mere sots of magistrates;
The fumes of it invade the brain,
And make men giddy, proud, and vain.

Videlicit,
That each man swore to do his best
To damn and perjure all the rest.

Videlicit,
That each man swore to do his best
To damn and perjure all the rest.

For discords make the sweetest airs.

For discords make the sweetest airs.

Everyone should keep a mental wastepaper basket, and the older he grows, the more things will he promptly consign to read more

Everyone should keep a mental wastepaper basket, and the older he grows, the more things will he promptly consign to it.