Teas, Where Small Talk Dies In Agonies.

Every Man, In Proportion To His Virtue, Considers Himself, With Respect To The Great Community Of Mankind, As The Steward And Guardian Of Their Interests In The Property Which He Chances To Possess. Every Man, In Proportion To His Wisdom, Sees The Manner In Which It Is His Duty To Employ The Resources Which The Consent Of Mankind Has Intrusted To His Discretion.

Just A Tender Sense Of My Own Process, That Holds Something Of My Connection With The Divine.

Duty And Dereliction Guide Thee Back To Solitude.

It Is A Modest Creed, And Yet Pleasant If One Considers It, To Own That Death Itself Must Be, Like All The Rest, A Mockery.

The Soul's Joy Lies In Doing.