Age Is Nothing But Death That Is

There Is No More Terrible Woe Upon Earth Than The Woe Of The Stricken Brain, Which Remembers The Days Of Its Strength, The Living Light Of Its Reason, The Sunrise Of Its Proud Intelligence, And Knows That These Have Passed Away Like A Tale That Is Told.

I Have Met A Thousand Scamps; But I Never Met One Who Considered Himself So. Self-knowledge Isn't So Common.

To Vice, Innocence Must Always Seem Only A Superior Kind Of Chicanery.

Genius Scorns The Power Of Gold: It Is Wrong. Gold Is The War-scythe On Its Chariot, Which Mows Down The Millions Of Its Foes, And Gives Free Passage To The Sun-coursers With Which It Leaves Those Heavenly Fields Of Light For The Gross Battlefields Of Earth.

Indifference Is The Invincible Grant Of The World.