What I Write Is Not For Little

Good Heavens! What A Foolish Thing Is This Pretended Perfectibility Of The Human Race Which Is Continually Being Dinned Into Our Ears!

What I Write Is Not For Little Girls.

The Purity Of A Person's Heart Can Be Quickly Measured By How They Regard Animals

White Men Should Exhibit The Same Insensibility To Moral Tortures That Red Men Do To Physical Torments.

Those Horses Must Have Been Spanish Jennets, Born Of Mares Mated With A Zephyr; For They Went As Swiftly As The Wind, And The Moon, Which Had Risen At Our Departure To Give Us Light, Rolled Through The Sky Like A Wheel Detached From Its Carriage.