Style Is The Gossamer On Which The

The Fears Of One Class Of Men Are Not The Measure Of The Rights Of Another.

The Charities Of Life Are Scattered Everywhere, Enameling The Vales Of Human Beings As The Flowers Paint The Meadows. They Are Not The Fruit Of Study, Nor The Privilege Of Refinement, But A Natural Instinct.

In Nine Times Out Of Ten, The Slanderous Tongue Belongs To A Disappointed Person.

Conscience Is The Mirror Of Our Souls, Which Represents The Errors Of Our Lives In Their Full Shape.

Sedition Is Bred In The Lap Of Luxury And Its Chosen Emissaries Are The Beggared Spendthrift And The Impoverished Libertine.