States, As Great Engines, Move Slowly.

Nothing Is To Be Feared But Fear.

Time Is The Author Of Authors.

Suspicions That The Mind, Of Itself, Gathers, Are But Buzzes; But Suspicions That Are Artificially Nourished And Put Into Men's Heads By The Tales And Whisperings Of Others, Have Stings.

We Cannot Command Nature Except By Obeying Her.

The Cord Breaketh At Last By The Weakest Pull.