Communism Means Barbarism.

The Don Quixote Of One Generation May Live To Hear Himself Called The Savior Of Society By The Next.

Hush! Still As Death, The Tempest Holds His Breath As From A Sudden Will; The Rain Stops Short, But From The Eaves You See It Drop, And Hear It From The Leaves, All Is So Bodingly Still.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak. Like Other Devil's Weapons, It Is Always Cunningly Ready To Our Hand, And There Is More Poison In The Handle Than In The Point.

Creativity Is Not The Finding Of A Thing, But The Making Something Out Of It After It Is Found.

Blessed Are They Who Have Nothing To Say And Who Cannot Be Persuaded To Say It.