The Real Object Of The Drama Is

The Spartan, Smiting And Spurning The Wretched Helot, Moves Our Disgust. But The Same Spartan, Calmly Dressing His Hair, And Uttering His Concise Jests, On What The Well Knows To Be His Last Day, In The Pass Of Thermopylae, Is Not To Be Contemplated Without Admiration.

History Begins In Novel And Ends In Essay.

The English Doctrine That All Power Is A Trust For The Public Good.

Those Who Seem To Load The Public Taste Are, In General, Merely Outrunning It In The Direction Which It Is Spontaneously Pursuing.

If The Sunday Had Not Been Observed As A Day Of Rest During The Last Three Centuries, I Have Not The Slightest Doubt That We Should Have Been At This Moment A Poorer People And Less Civilized.