“Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings; Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys,Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,”
“Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrustTo suffer death or shame for what is just”
“Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.”
“I will become a firefly and even in the day my glow will be seen in spite of the sun. Let others be as butterflies who preen their wings yet depend on the charity of a flower for life.”
“If ya let hornets rest in yer outhouse, it's hard t'get pissed when they buzz down and sting yer ass.”
“Those who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write,Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.”