The Entire Merit Of A Man Can

Evil Is The Chronic Malady Of The Universe, And Checked In One Place, Breaks Forth In Another.

Standing Navies, As Well As Standing Armies, Serve To Keep Alive The Spirit Of War Even In The Meek Heart Of Peace. In Its Very Embers And Smoulderings, They Nourish That Fatal Fire, And Half-pay Officers, As The Priests Of Mars, Yet Guard The Temple, Though No God Be There.

There Never Was A Great Man Yet Who Spent All His Life Inland.

One Trembles To Think Of That Mysterious Thing In The Soul, Which Seems To Acknowledge No Human Jurisdiction, But In Spite Of The Individual's Own Innocence Self, Will Still Dream Horrid Dreams, And Mutter Unmentionable Thoughts.

Prayer Draws Us Near To Our Own Souls.