Histories Are A Kind Of Distilled Newspapers.

The Grand Result Of Schooling Is A Mind With Just Vision To Discern, With Free Force To Do: The Grand Schoolmaster Is Practice.

The Stifled Hum Of Midnight, When Traffic Has Lain Down To Rest, And The Chariot Wheels Of Vanity, Still Rolling Here And There Through Distant Streets, Are Bearing Her To Halls Roofed In And Lighted To The Due Pitch For Her; And Only Vice And Misery, To Prowl Or To Moan Like Night Birds, Are Abroad.

It Is A Vain Hope To Make People Happy By Politics.

Laughter Is The Cipher Key Wherewith We Decipher The Whole Man

If You Are Ever In Doubt As To Whether To Kiss A Pretty Girl, Always Give Her The Benefit Of The Doubt.