The Nurse Of Full-grown Souls Is Solitude.

Tyranny Is Always Weakness

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak.

The Don Quixote Of One Generation May Live To Hear Himself Called The Savior Of Society By The Next.

Again, Now, Now, Again Plashes The Rain In Heavy Gouts, The Crinkled Lightning Seems Ever Brightening... And Loud And Long Again The Thunder Shouts His Battle-song, - One Quivering Flash, One Wildering Crash, Followed By Silence Dead And Dull, As If The Cloud, Let Go, Leapt Bodily Below To Whelm The Earth In One Mad Overthrow, And Then A Total Lull.

Whatever You May Be Sure Of, Be Sure Of This, That You Are Dreadfully Like Other People.