Poetry Has Been To Me Its Own

In Politics, What Begins In Fear Usually Ends In Folly.

How Like Herrings And Onions Our Vices Are In The Morning After We Have Committed Them.

We Have To Administer The Law Whether We Like It Or No.

There Is No Such Thing As A Worthless Book Though There Are Some Far Worse Than Worthless; No Book That Is Not Worth Preserving, If Its Existence May Be Tolerated; As There May Be Some Men Whom It May Be Proper To Hang, But None Should Be Suffered To Starve.

The First Class Of Readers May Be Compared To An Hour-glass, Their Reading Being As The Sand; It Runs In And Runs Out, And Leaves Not A Vestige Behind. A Second Class Resembles A Sponge, Which Imbibes Everything, And Returns It In Nearly The Same State, Only A Little Dirtier. A Third Class Is Like A Jelly-bag, Which Allows All That Is Pure To Pass Away, And Retains Only The Refuse And Dregs. The Fourth Class May Be Compared To The Slave Of Golconda, Who, Casting Aside All That Is Worthless, Preserves Only The Pure Gems.