But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

Genius, like humanity, rusts for the want of use

An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path. But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will turn aside and let the reptile live.

The natural man has only two primal passions: to get and beget.