The Sweeter Sound Of Woman's Praise.

A Beggarly People, A Church And No Steeple.

Cut Off My Head, And Singular I Am, Cut Off My Tail, And Plural I Appear; Although My Middle's Left, There's Nothing There! What Is My Head Cut Off? A Sounding Sea; What Is My Tail Cut Off? A Rushing River; And In Their Mingling Depths I Fearless Play, Parent Of Sweetest Sounds, Yet Mute Forever.

I Shall Not Be Satisfied Unless I Produce Something Which Shall For A Few Days Supersede The Last Fashionable Novel On The Tables Of Young Ladies.

The Knowledge Of The Theory Of Logic Has No Tendency Whatever To Make Men Good Reasoners.

The Doctrine Which, From The Very First Origin Of Religious Dissensions, Has Been Held By Bigots Of All Sects, When Condensed Into A Few Words And Stripped Of Rhetorical Disguise, Is Simply This: I Am In The Right, And You Are In The Wrong. When You Are The Stronger, You Ought To Tolerate Me; For It Is Your Duty To Tolerate Truth. But When I Am The Stronger I Shall Persecute You; For It Is My Duty To Persecute Error.