I Hear The Ruin Of All Space,

The Studious Silence Of The Library ... Thought Is The Thought Of Thought. Tranquil Brightness.

This Race And This Country And This Life Produced Me, He Said. I Shall Express Myself As I Am.

Why Is It That Words Like These Seem Dull And Cold? Is It Because There Is No Word Tender Enough To Be Your Name?

Never Let Us Do Wrong, Because Our Opponents Did So. Let Us, Rather, By Doing Right, Show Them What They Ought To Have Done, And Establish A Rule The Dictates Of Reason And Conscience, Rather Than Of The Angry Passions.

A Corpse Is Meat Gone Bad. Well And What's Cheese? Corpse Of Milk.