Good And Bad Men Are Each Less

We Must Not Be Guilty Of Taking The Law Into Our Own Hands, And Converting It From What It Really Is To What We Think It Ought To Be.

In Shakespeare One Sentence Begets The Next Naturally; The Meaning Is All Inwoven. He Goes On Kindling Like A Meteor Through The Dark Atmosphere.

No Voice; But Oh - The Silence Sank Like Music On My Heart.

Come, Come Thou Bleak December Wind, And Blow The Dry Leaves From The Tree! Flash, Like A Love-thought, Thro'me, Death And Take A Life That Wearies Me.

To Leave No Interval Between The Sentence And The Fulfillment Of It Doth Beseem God Only, The Immutable!