FastSaying

The rout is Folly's circle, which she draws With magic wand. So potent is the spell, That none decoy'd into that fatal ring, Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape. There we grow early gray, but never wise.

William Cowper

William Cowper

Society

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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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I was a stricken deer, that left the herd / Long since.
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Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
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He would not, with a peremptory tone,Assert the nose upon his face his own.
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