Of All Ruins, That Of A Noble

The Press, Watson, Is A Most Valuable Institution, If You Only Know How To Use It.

There's An East Wind Coming All The Same, Such A Wind As Never Blew On England Yet. It Will Be Cold And Bitter, Watson, And A Good Many Of Us May Wither Before Its Blast. But It's God's Own Wind None The Less And A Cleaner, Better Stronger Land Will Lie In The Sunshine When The Storm Has Cleared.

What One Man Can Invent, Another Can Discover.

An Absence Of Antecedents And Of Relatives Is Sometimes An Aid Rather Than An Impediment To Social Advancement . . .

It Is, I Admit, Mere Imagination; But How Often Is Imagination The Mother Of Truth?