Nothing Except The Mint Can Make Money

Reform, That We May Preserve.

The Object Of Oratory Alone In Not Truth, But Persuasion.

As Civilization Advances, Poetry Almost Necessarily Declines.

Cut Off My Head, And Singular I Am, Cut Off My Tail, And Plural I Appear; Although My Middle's Left, There's Nothing There! What Is My Head Cut Off? A Sounding Sea; What Is My Tail Cut Off? A Rushing River; And In Their Mingling Depths I Fearless Play, Parent Of Sweetest Sounds, Yet Mute Forever.

War Is Never Lenient But Where It Is Wanton; Where Men Are Compelled To Fight In Self-defence, They Must Hate And Avenge. This May Be Bad, But It Is Human Nature; It Is The Clay As It Came From The Hands Of The Potter.