If I Had My Way, The World

If An Eloquent Speaker Speak Not The Truth, Is There A More Horrid Kind Of Object In Creation?

A Man's Perfection Is His Work.

Youth Is To All The Glad Season Of Life; But Often Only By What It Hopes, Not By What It Attains, Or What It Escapes.

Produce, Produce! Were It But The Pitifulest, Infinitesimal Fraction Of A Product, Produce It In God's Name. 'tis The Utmost Thou Hast In Thee? Out With It Then! Up, Up! Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do It With Thy Whole Might.

Wealth Has More And More Increased, And At The Same Time Gathered Itself More And More Into Masses, Strangely Altering The Old Relations, And Increasing The Distance Between The Rich And The Poor.