No Hour Is Ever Eternity, But It

Her Old Thoughts Were Going To Come In Handy Now, But New Words Would Have To Be Made And Said To Fit Them.

It's No Use Of Talking Unless People Understand What You Say.

A Great State Is A Well-blended Mash Of Something Of All The People And All Of None Of The People. The Liquor Of Statecraft Is Distilled From The Mash You Got.

When Janie Looked Out Of Her Door She Saw The Drifting Mists Gathered In The West -- That Cloud Field Of The Sky -- To Arm Themselves With Thunders And March Forth Against The World. Louder And Higher And Lower And Wider The Sound And Motion Spread, Mounting, Sinking, Darking.

To Me, Bitterness Is The Under-arm Odor Of Wishful Weakness. It Is The Graceless Acknowledgment Of Defeat.