The Americans Have Always Been Food, Sex,

So Much Of Our Lives Is Given Over To The Consideration Of Our Imperfections That There Is No Time To Improve Our Imaginary Virtues. The Truth Is We Only Perfect Our Vices, And Man Is A Worse Creature When He Dies Than He Was When He Was Born.

Ambition Is A Dead Sea Fruit, And The Greatest Peril To The Soul Is That One Is Likely To Get Precisely What He Is Seeking.

The Bad Poet Is A Toady Mimicking Nature.

A Man Who Can Be Entertaining For A Full Day Will Be In His Grave By Night-fall.

The Newspaper Has Debauched The American Until He Is A Slavish, Simpering, And Angerless Citizen; It Has Taught Him To Be A Lump Mass-man Toward Fraud, Simony, Murder, And Lunacies More Vile Than Those Of Commodus Or Caracalla.