Tyranny Is For The Worst Of Treasons.

The Devil Hath Not, In All His Quiver's Choice, An Arrow For The Heart Like A Sweet Voice.

And Hold Up To The Sun My Little Taper.

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse -- Borne Away With Every Breath!

And What Is Writ Is Writ - / Would It Were Worthier!

Those Who Will Not Reason, Are Bigots, Those Who Cannot, Are Fools, And Those Who Dare Not, Are Slaves.