It Was Part Of Your Religion To

The Sun, The Earth, Love, Friends, Our Very Breath Are Parts Of The Banquet.

The New Englander Landed On A Stony, Barren Tract, And A Large Share Of His Strength During Two Centuries Has Gone To Force A Living Out Of It. Hence He Has Come To Regard Economy - A Necessary Unpleasant Quality At Best - As The Chief Of Virtues. He Has Cultivated Habits Which Verge On Closeness In Dealing With Food, And With The Expression Of Feeling, And Even - His Enemies Think - With Feeling Itself.

... I Suppose That The Party Or Sect Which Is To Do Any Work In The World Must Breathe Its Own Peculiar Atmosphere, Speak Its Own Little Patois, And See But One Side Of The Question On Which It Fights.

No Man Surely Has So Short A Memory As The American.

The Only Hero Known To My Childhood Was Henry Clay.