History Is A Great Dust Heap.

Produce, Produce! Were It But The Pitifulest, Infinitesimal Fraction Of A Product, Produce It In God's Name. 'tis The Utmost Thou Hast In Thee? Out With It Then! Up, Up! Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do It With Thy Whole Might.

No Mortal Has A Right To Wag His Tongue, Much Less To Wag His Pen, Without Saying Something.

That Monstrous Tuberosity Of Civilised Life, The Capital Of England.

That There Should One Man Die Ignorant Who Had Capacity For Knowledge, This I Call A Tragedy.

It Is The Heart Always That Sees, Before The Head Can See.