Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
He hides behind a magisterial air
He own offences, and strips others' bare.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.

The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or
behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, read more

The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or
behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out
of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.

I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally
discover everybody's face but their own.

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally
discover everybody's face but their own.

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine read more

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster knife, that hacks and hews;
The rage but not the talent to abuse.

And especially, especially, don't f*ck with vegans. Do not look vegans in the eye. If you get into an argument read more

And especially, especially, don't f*ck with vegans. Do not look vegans in the eye. If you get into an argument with a vegan, say "I'm wrong", and run away as fast as you can. Do not f*ck with vegans because they will f*ck you up... BECAUSE THEY'RE HUNGRY.

I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
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I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go,
And pointed satire runs him through and through.