Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
read more

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.

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
Willing read more

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend,
A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend.

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.

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.

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?

It is a pretty mocking of the life.

It is a pretty mocking of the life.

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'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.