Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be

Like Following Life Through Creatures You Dissect, You Lose It In The Moment You Detect.

Then From The Mint Walks Forth The Man Of Rhyme, Happy To Catch Me, Just At Dinner-time.

Nothing Is More Certain Than Much Of The Force; As Well As Grace, Of Arguments Or Instructions Depends Their Conciseness.

Conceit Is To Nature What Paint Is To Beauty; It Is Not Only Needless, But It Impairs What It Would Improve.

No More Was Seen The Human Form Divine.