The Game Is Never Lost

Let's Learn To Live, For We Must Die Alone.

Whatever Amuses, Serves To Kill Time, To Lull The Faculties, And To Banish Reflection. Whatever Entertains, Usually Awakens The Understanding Or Gratifies The Fancy. Whatever Diverts, Is Lively In Its Nature, And Sometimes Tumultuous In Its Effects.

Beauties, When Disposed To Sleep, Should From The Eye Of Keen Inspector Keep: The Lovely Nymph Who Would Her Swain Surprise, May Close Her Mouth, But Not Conceal Her Eyes; Sleep From The Fairest Face Some Beauty Takes, And All The Homely Features Homelier Makes.

Impertinence Will Intermeddle In Things In Which It Has No Concern, Showing A Want Of Breeding, Or, More Commonly, A Spirit Of Sheer Impudence.

To Every Class We Have A School Assign'd, Rules For All Ranks, And Food For Every Mind: Yet One There Is, That Small Regard To Rule Or Study Pays, And Still Is Deem'd A School; That, Where A Deaf, Poor, Patient Widow Sits, And Awes Some Thirty Infants As She Knits; Infants Of Humble, Busy Wives, Who Pay Some Trifling Price For Freedom Through The Day. At This Good Matron's Hut The Children Meet, Who Thus Becomes The Mother Of The Street.