Ink Is The Transcript Of Thought.

What Is Our Life But A Succession Of Preludes To That Unknown Song Whose First Solemn Note Is Sounded By Death?

My Mother Was Convinced, And On This Head I Have Retained Her Firm Belief, That To Kill Animals For The Purpose Of Feeding On Their Flesh Is One Of The Most Deplorable And Shameful Infirmities Of The Human State; That It Is One Of Those Curses Cast Upon Man Either By His Fall, Or By The Obduracy Of His Own Perversity.

Reading Furnishes The Mind Only With Materials Of Knowledge; It Is Thinking That Makes What We Read Ours. I Am The Fellow Citizen Of Every Being That Thinks; My Country Is Truth.

We Don't Have Two Hearts, One For Animals And One For Humans ; We Have One Heart Or We Don't Have Any.

Private Passions Tire And Exhaust Themselves, Public Ones Never.