Ride The Air In Whirlwind.

Give Me The Liberty To Know, To Utter, And To Argue Freely According To Conscience, Above All Liberties.

For Stories Teach Us, That Liberty Sought Out Of Season, In A Corrupt And Degenerate Age, Brought Rome Itself To A Farther Slavery: For Liberty Hath A Sharp And Double Edge, Fit Only To Be Handled By Just And Virtuous Men; To Bad And Dissolute, It Becomes A Mischief Unwieldy In Their Own Hands: Neither Is It Completely Given, But By Them Who Have The Happy Skill To Know What Is Grievance And Unjust To A People, And How To Remove It Wisely; What Good Laws Are Wanting, And How To Frame Them Substantially, That Good Men May Enjoy The Freedom Which They Merit, And The Bad The Curb Which They Need.

A Good Book Is The Precious Lifeblood Of A Master Spirit.

Now The Bright Morning-star, Day's Harbinger, Comes Dancing From The East.

Revenge, At First Though Sweet, Bitter Ere Long Back On Itself Recoils.