Change Begets Change. Nothing Propagates So Fast.

Houses Were Knocked Down; Streets Broken Through And Stopped; Deep Pits And Trenches Dug In The Ground; Enormous Heaps Of Earth And Clay Thrown Up; Buildings That Were Undermined And Shaking, Propped By Great Beams Of Wood. In Short, The Yet Unfinished And Unopened Railroad Was In Progress.

It's Over, And Can't Be Helped, And That's One Consolation, As They Always Say In Turkey, When They Cut The Wrong Man's Head Off.

You Are Always Training Yourself To Be, Mind And Body, As Clear As Crystal, And You Always Are, And Never Change; Whereas I Am A Muddy, Solitary, Moping Weed.

Of All The Ruinous And Desolate Places My Uncle Had Ever Beheld, This Was The Most So. It Looked As If It Had Once Been A Large House Of Entertainment; But The Roof Had Fallen In, In Many Places, And The Stairs Were Steep, Rugged, And Broken. There Was A Huge Fire-place In The Room Into Which They Walked, And The Chimney Was Blackened With Smoke; But No Warm Blaze Lighted It Up Now. The White Feathery Dust Of Burnt Wood Was Still Strewed Over The Hearth, But The Stove Was Cold, And All Was Dark And Gloomy.

I Cannot Help It; Reason Has Nothing To Do With It; I Love Her Against Reason-but Who Would As Soon Love Me For My Own Sake, As She Would Love The Beggar At The Corner.