He Who Brings Ridicule To Bear Against

Fancy Is Imagination In Her Youth And Adolescence. Fancy Is Always Excursive; Imagination, Not Seldom, Is Sedate.

It Is As Wise To Moderate Our Belief As Our Desires.

It Appears To Be Among The Laws Of Nature, That The Mighty Of Intellect Should Be Pursued And Carped By The Little, As The Solitary Flight Of One Great Bird Is Followed By The Twittering Petulance Of Many Smaller.

Death Stands Above Me, Whispering Low I Know Not What Into My Ear; Of His Strange Language All I Know Is, There Is Not A Word Of Fear.

Moroseness Is The Evening Of Turbulence.