To The Vulgar Eye, Few Things Are

The Highest Ensign That Men Ever Met And Embraced Under, The Cross Itself, Had No Meaning Save An Accidental Extrinsic One.

Generations Are As The Days Of Toilsome Mankind; Death And Birth Are The Vesper And The Matin Bells That Summon Mankind To Sleep And To Rise Refreshed For New Advancement. What The Father Has Made, The Son Can Make And Enjoy; But Has Also Work Of His Own Appointed Him. Thus All Things Wax And Roll Onwards: Arts, Establishments, Opinions, Nothing Is Ever Completed, But Ever Completing.

I Do Not Believe In The Collective Wisdom Of Individual Ignorance.

Parties On The Back Of Parties, At War With The World And With Each Other.

Look Around You. Your World-hosts Are All In Mutiny, In Confusion, Destitution; On The Eve Of Fiery Wreck And Madness! They Will Not March Farther For You, On The Sixpence A Day And Supply-demand Principle; They Will Not; Nor Ought They, Nor Can They. Ye Shall Reduce Them To Order, Begin Reducing Them. To Order, To Just Subordination; Noble Loyalty In Return For Noble Guidance. Their Souls Are Driven Nigh Mad; Let Yours Be Sane And Ever Saner.