I Never Heard Tell Of Any Clever

Have Not I Myself Known Five Hundred Living Soldiers Sabred Into Crows' Meat For A Piece Of Glazed Cotton, Which They Call Their Flag; Which Had You Sold It At Any Market-cross, Would Not Have Brought Above Three Groschen?

Labor, Wide As The Earth, Has Its Summit In Heaven.

Professors Of The Dismal Science, I Perceive The Length Of Your Tether Is Now Pretty Well Run; And I Must Request You To Talk A Little Lower In The Future.

The Past Is All Holy To Us; The Dead Are All Holy; Even They That Were Wicked When Alive.

That There Should One Man Die Ignorant Who Had Capacity For Knowledge, This I Call A Tragedy.