A Painter Can Hang His Pictures, But

Though Man Is The Only Beast That Can Write, He Has Small Reason To Be Proud Of It. When He Utters Something That Is Wise It Is Nothing That The River Horse Does Not Know, And Most Of His Creations Are The Result Of Accident.

No Country Has Suffered So Much From The Ruins Of War While Being At Peace As The American.

Those Who Write For Lucre Or Fame Are Grosser Than The Cartel Robbers, For They Steal The Genius Of The People, Which Is Its Will To Resist Evil.

Genius, Like Truth, Has A Shabby And Neglected Mien.

Writing Is Conscience, Scruple, And The Farming Of Our Ancestors.