A Man Guilty Of Poverty Easily Believes

He That Is Pushing His Predecessors Into The Gulf Of Obscurity, Cannot But Sometimes Suspect, That He Must Himself Sink In Like Manner, And, As He Stands Upon The Same Precipice, Be Swept Away With The Same Violence.

Just Praise Is Only A Debt, But Flattery Is A Present.

Life Of Ages, Richly Poured, Love Of God Unspent And Free, Flowing In The Prophet's Word And The People's Liberty! Never Was To Chosen Race That Unstinted Tide Confined; Thine Is Every Time And Place, Fountain Sweet Of Heart And Mind!

Wickedness Is Always Easier Than Virtue; For It Takes The Short Cut To Everything.

Art Hath An Enemy Called Ignorance.