Soul Of The Age! The Applause! Delight!

Get Money, Still Get Money, Boy, No Matter By What Means.

No Simple Word That Shall Be Uttered At Our Mirthful Board, Shall Make Us Sad Next Morning; Or Affright The Liberty That We'll Enjoy To-night.

Whosoever Loves Not Picture Is Injurious To Truth, And All The Wisdom Of Poetry. Picture Is The Invention Of Heaven, The Most Ancient And Most Akin To Nature. It Is Itself A Silent Work, And Always One And The Same Habit.

Fortune, Thou Hadst No Deity, If Men Had Wisdom.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.