Society Is No Comfort, To One Not

Nay, Do Not Think I Flatter. For What Advancement May I Hope From Thee, That No Revenue Hast But Thy Good Spirits To Feed And Clothe Thee? Why Should The Poor Be Flattered?

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

How Well He's Read, To Reason Against Reading!

Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

Master, Go On, And I Will Follow Thee To The Last Gasp With Truth And Loyalty.