I Never Fight, Except Against Difficulties.

Of All The Senses, Sight Must Be The Most Delightful.

We, The People, Are Not Free. Our Democracy Is But A Name. We Vote? What Does That Mean? It Means We Choose Between Tweedledee And Tweedledum. We Elect Expensive Masters To Do Our Work For Us, And Then Blame Them Because They Work For Themselves And For Their Class.

The Hands Of Those I Meet Are Dumbly Eloquent To Me. The Touch Of Some Hands Is An Impertinence. I Have Met People So Empty Of Joy, That When I Clasped Their Frosty Finger-tips, It Seemed As If I Were Shaking Hands With A Northeast Storm.

How Futile Are Words In The Ears Of Those Who Mourn.

I Do Not Mean To Object To A Thorough Knowledge Of The Famous Works We Read. I Object Only To The Interminable Comments And Bewildering Criticisms That Teach But One Thing: There Are As Many Opinions As There Are Men.