Communism Means Barbarism.

Metaphor Is No Argument, Though It Be Sometimes The Gunpowder To Drive One Home, And Imbed It In The Memory.

The Wisest Man Could Ask No More Of Fate Than To Be Simple, Modest, Manly, True, Safe From The Many, Honored By The Few; Nothing To Court In Church, Or World, Or State, But Inwardly In Secret To Be Great.

Again, Now, Now, Again Plashes The Rain In Heavy Gouts, The Crinkled Lightning Seems Ever Brightening... And Loud And Long Again The Thunder Shouts His Battle-song, - One Quivering Flash, One Wildering Crash, Followed By Silence Dead And Dull, As If The Cloud, Let Go, Leapt Bodily Below To Whelm The Earth In One Mad Overthrow, And Then A Total Lull.

A Wise Skepticism Is The First Attribute Of A Good Critic.

I Don't Believe In Principle, But I Do In Interest.