Fools, When Their Roof-tree Falls, Think It

Literature, Properly So Called, Draws Its Sap From The Deep Soil Of Human Nature's Common And Everlasting Sympathies, The Gathered Leaf-mound Of Countless Generations, And Not From Any Top Dressing Capriciously Scattered Over The Surface.

I Have Always Been Of The Mind That In A Democracy Manners Are The Only Effective Weapons Against The Bowie-knife.

Fortune Is The Rod Of The Weak, And The Staff Of The Brave.

Humbleness Is Always Grace; Always Dignity

All God's Angels Come To Us Disguised.