Maxioms by Sir Walter Scott
You whirled them to the back of beyont.
You whirled them to the back of beyont.
Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
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Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way:
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
Crime oft recoils upon the author's head.
Crime oft recoils upon the author's head.
A coward calls himself cautious, a miser thrifty.
A coward calls himself cautious, a miser thrifty.
Crime requires further crime to conceal it.
Crime requires further crime to conceal it.
