The best of men have ever loved repose: They hate to mingle in the filthy fray; Where the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows, Imbitter'd more from peevish day to day.
In a hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence; the cream rises until it sours.
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merelyflowers.
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