The man, who laugh'd but once to see an ass Mumbling to make the cross-grain'd thistles pass, Might laugh again to see a jury chaw The prickles of unpalatable law.
Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?
Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.william shakespeare
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