A Man Without A Vote Is In

A Library Is But The Soul's Burial Ground; It Is The Land Of Shadows. Yet One Is Impressed With The Thought, The Labor, And The Struggle, Represented In This Vast Catacomb Of Books. Who Could Dream, By The Placid Waters That Issue From The Level Mouths Of Brooks Into The Lake, All The Plunges, The Whirls, The Divisions, And Foaming Rushes That Had Brought Them Down To The Tranquil Exit? And Who Can Guess Through What Channels Of Disturbance, And Experiences Of Sorrow, The Heart Passed That Has Emptied Into This Dead Sea Of Books?

I Will Not Say It Is Not Christian To Make Beads Of Others Faults, And Tell Them Over Every Day; I Say It Is Infernal. If You Want To Know How The Devil Feels, You Do Know, If You Are Such An One.

The Mischiefs Of Anarchy Have Been Equaled By The Mischiefs Of Government.

As The Imagination Is Set To Look Into The Invisible And Immaterial, It Seems To Attract Something Of Their Vitality; And Though It Can Give Nothing To The Body To Redeem It From Years, It Can Give To The Soul That Freshness Of Youth In Old Age Which Is Even More Beautiful Than Youth In The Young.

It Is Not Well For A Man To Pray Cream And Live Skim Milk.