These Are the Saddest of Possible Words

From Alexander Pope's An Essay on Man:

Cease then, nor Order imperfection name:
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Submit.–In this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear:
Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All Nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

Lyndon Johnson:

I'm the only President you've got.

Richard Nixon:

Donald Trump's lawyer John Dowd:

The "President cannot obstruct justice"

"Baseball's Sad Lexicon," by Franklin Pierce Adams:

These are the saddest of possible words:
     “Tinker to Evers to Chance.”
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
     Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
     Making a Giant hit into a double—
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
     “Tinker to Evers to Chance.”