Thus every dog at last will have his day - He who this morning smiled, at night may sorrow; The grub today's a butterfly tomorrow. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
What rage for fame attends both great and small! Better be damned than mentioned not at all. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
O delicious kiss, Why thou so sudden art gone? Lost in the moment thou art won? — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
With vivid words your just conceptions grace, Much truth compressing in a narrow space; Then many shall peruse, but few complain, And envy frown,… — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
People may have too much of a good thing: Full as an egg of wisdom thus I sing. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
No, let the monarch's bags and others hold The flattering, mighty, nay, al-mighty gold. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
Thus every dog at last will have his day - He who this morning smiled, at night may sorrow; The grub today's a butterfly… — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
Some one has said of a fine and honorable old age, that it was the childhood of immortality. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
The turnpike road to people's hearts, I find, Lies through their mouths or I mistake mankind. — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish; And when an angler for his dish, Through gluttony's vile sin, Attempts, the wretch, to pull thee out,… — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
Midas, they say, possessed the art of old; Of turning whatsoe'er he touch'd to gold; This modern statesmen can reverse with ease - Touch… — John Wolcot Copy Share Image
