Wrong Is But Falsehood Put In Practice.

Truth Is A Point, The Subtlest And Finest; Harder Than Adamant; Never To Be Broken, Worn Away, Or Blunted. Its Only Bad Quality Is, That It Is Sure To Hurt Those Who Touch It; And Likely To Draw Blood, Perhaps The Life Blood, Of Those Who Press Earnestly Upon It.

There Is No Eloquence Which Does Not Agitate The Soul.

No Friendship Is So Cordial Or So Delicious As That Of Girl For Girl; No Hatred So Intense And Immovable As That Of Woman For Woman.

Dignity, In Private Men And In Governments, Has Been Little Else Than A Stately And Stiff Perseverance In Oppression; And Spirit, As It Is Called, Little Else Than The Foam Of Hard-mouthed Insolence.

O What A Thing Is Age! Death Without Death's Quiet.