Where Is Human Nature So Weak As

Every Man Should Keep A Fair-sized Cemetery In Which To Bury The Faults Of His Friends.

I Would Rather Speak The Truth To Ten Men Than Blandishments And Lying To A Million. Try It, Ye Who Think There Is Nothing In It! Try What It Is To Speak With God Behind You, To Speak So As To Be Only The Arrow In The Bow Which The Almighty Draws.

A Person Can No More Make Money Suddenly And Largely, And Be Unharmed By It, Than One Could Suddenly Grow From A Child's Stature To An Adult's Without Harm.

Are They Dead That Yet Speak Louder Than We Can Speak, And A More Universal Language? Are They Dead That Yet Act? Are They Dead That Yet Move Upon Society And Inspire The People With Nobler Motives And More Heroic Patriotism?

Socially We Are Woven Into The Fabric Of Society, Where Every Man Is Like One Thread In A Piece Of Cloth. No Single Thread Has A Right To Say, "i Will Stay Here No Longer," And Draw Out. No Man Has A Right To Make A Hole In The Well-woven Fabric Of Society.