Give Me, Lord, Neither Poverty Nor Riches.

The Very Hirelings Of The Press, Whose Trade It Is To Buoy Up The Spirits Of The People... Have Uttered Falsehoods So Long, They Have Played Off So Many Tricks, That Their Budget Seems, At Last, To Be Quite Empty.

The Ancient Nobility And Gentry Of The Kingdom... Have Been Thrust Out Of All Public Employment... A Race Of Merchants, And Manufacturers And Bankers And Loan-jobbers And Contractors Have Usurped Their Place.

Give Me, Lord, Neither Poverty Nor Riches.

Poverty Is, Except Where There Is An Actual Want Of Food And Raiment, A Thing Much More Imaginary Than Real. The Shame Of Poverty--the Shame Of Being Thought Poor--it Is A Great And Fatal Weakness, Though Arising In This Country, From The Fashion Of The Times Themselves.

Sit Down To Write What You Have Thought, And Not To Think What You Shall Write.