A Man's As Old As He's Feeling.

We Ne'er Can Be Made Happy By Compulsion.

The Genius Of Coleridge Is Like A Sunken Treasure Ship, And Coleridge A Diver Too Timid And Lazy To Bring Its Riches To The Surface.

We Ought Not To Extract Pernicious Honey From Poison Blossoms Of Misrepresentation And Mendacious Half-truth, To Pamper The Course Appetite Of Bigotry And Self-love.

The Form Of Truth Will Bear Exposure, As Well As That Of Beauty Herself.

The History Of All The World Tells Us That Immoral Means Will Ever Intercept Good Ends.