He Who Would Greatly Deserve Must Greatly

All These, However, Were Mere Terrors Of The Night, Phantoms Of The Mind That Walk In Darkness; And Though He Had Seen Many Spectres In His Time, And Been More Than Once Beset By Satan In Divers Shapes, In His Lonely Pre-ambulations, Yet Daylight Put An End To All These Evils; And He Would Have Passed A Pleasent Life Of It, In Despite Of The Devil And All His Works, If His Path Had Not Been Crossed By A Being That Causes More Perplexity To Mortal Man Than Ghosts, Goblins, And The Whole Race Of Witches Put Together, And That Was - A Woman.

No Man Is So Methodical As A Complete Idler, And None So Scrupulous In Measuring Out His Time As He Whose Time Is Worth Nothing.

It Is The Divine Attribute Of The Imagination, That It Is Irrepressible, Unconfinable; That When The Real World Is Shut Out, It Can Create A World For Itself, And With A Necromantic Power Can Conjure Up Glorious Shapes And Forms, And Brilliant Visions To Make Solitude Populous, And Irradiate The Gloom Of A Dungeon.

Washington, In Fact, Had Very Little Private Life, But Was Eminently A Public Character.

The Land Of Literature Is A Fairy Land To Those Who View It At A Distance, But, Like All Other Landscapes, The Charm Fades On A Nearer Approach, And The Thorns And Briars Become Visible.