It Is Curious How Tyrannical The Habit

Mishaps Are Like Knives, That Either Serve Us Or Cut Us, As We Grasp Them By The Blade Or The Handle.

The Path Of Nature Is, Indeed, A Narrow One, And It Is Only The Immortals That Seek It, And, When They Find It, Do Not Find Themselves Cramped Therein.

They Are Slaves Who Fear To Speak, For The Fallen And The Weak.

The Ultimate Result Of Protecting Fools From Their Folly Is To Fill The Planet Full Of Fools.

New Occasions Teach New Duties, Time Makes Ancient Good Uncouth; They Must Upward Still And Onward, Who Would Keep Abreast Of Truth.