The World Is A Wheel, And It

Taste, When Once Obtained, May Be Said To Be No Acquiring Faculty, And Must Remain Stationary; But Knowledge Is Of Perpetual Growth And Has Infinite Demands. Taste, Like An Artificial Canal, Winds Through A Beautiful Country, But Its Borders Are Confined And Its Term Is Limited. Knowledge Navigates The Ocean, And Is Perpetually On Voyages Of Discovery.

An Author Can Have Nothing Truly His Own But His Style.

Consider Ireland.... You Have A Starving Population, An Absentee Aristocracy, And An Alien Church, And In Addition The Weakest Executive In The World. That Is The Irish Question.

Debt Is A Prolific Mother Of Folly And Of Crime.

Romance Has Been Elegantly Defined As The Offspring Of Fiction And Love.