Desire Of Greatness Is A Godlike Sin.

Our Souls Sit Close And Silently Within, And Their Own Web From Their Own Entrails Spin; And When Eyes Meet Far Off, Our Sense Is Such, That, Spider-like, We Feel The Tenderest Touch.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

The End Of Satire Is The Amendment Of Vices By Correction; And He Who Writes Honestly Is No More An Enemy To The Offender Than The Physician To The Patient When He Prescribes Harsh Remedies.

For They Can Conquer Who Believe They Can.

Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.