History Shows That The Majority Of People

All Deep Things Are Song. It Seems Somehow The Very Central Essence Of Us, Song; As If All The Rest Were But Wrappages And Hulls!

A Battle Is A Terrible Conjugation Of The Verb To Kill: I Kill, Thou Killest, He Kills, We Kill, They Kill, All Kill.

A Witty Statesman Said, You Might Prove Anything By Figures.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such: It Is An Accident, Not A Property, Of A Man; Like Light, It Can Give Little Or Nothing, But At Most May Show What Is Given.

A Very Sea Of Thought; Neither Calm Nor Clear, If You Will, Yet Wherein The Toughest Pearl-diver May Dive To His Utmost Depth, And Return Not Only With Sea-wreck But With True Orients.