The Earth Belongs To The Living, Not

The Olive Tree Is Surely The Richest Gift Of Heaven. I Can Scarcely Expect Bread.

A Morsel Of Genuine History Is A Thing So Rare As To Be Always Valuable.

Turning, Then, From This Loathsome Combination Of Church And State, And Weeping Over The Follies Of Our Fellow Men, Who Yield Themselves The Willing Dupes And Drudges Of These Mountebanks, I Consider Reformation And Redress As Desperate, And Abandon Them To The Quixotism Of More Enthusiastic Minds.

The Bloom Of Monticello Is Chilled By My Solitude.

May It Be To The World... To Assume The Blessings And Security Of Self-government.