A Word Once Vulgarized Can Never Be

Nature, They Say, Doth Dote, And Cannot Make A Man Save On Some Worn-out Plan Repeating Us By Rote: For Him Her Old World Moulds Aside She Threw And, Choosing Sweet Clay From The Breast Of The Unexhausted West, With Stuff Untainted Shaped A Hero New.

It Is Good To Lengthen To The Last A Sunny Mood.

There Is No Bore We Dread Being Left Alone With So Much As Our Own Minds.

It Is The Rooted Instinct In Men To Admire What Is Better And More Beautiful Than Themselves.

Analysis Is Carried Into Everything. Even Deity Is Subjected To Chemical Tests.