Explore "To My Liars" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Attend, mine enemies of all degrees, / From sandlot orators and sandlot fleas / To fallen gentlemen and rising louts / Who babble slander at your drinking bouts, / And, filled with unfamiliar wine, begin / Lies drowned, ere born, in more congenial gin.
But most attend, ye persons of the press / Who live (though why, yourselves alone can guess) / In hope deferred, ambitious still to shine / By hating me at half a cent a line -- / Like drones among the bees of brighter wing, / Sunless to shine and impotent to sting.