Necessity Is Harsh. Fate Has No Reprieve.

My Hands Are Clean, But My Heart Has Somewhat Of Impurity.

Mobs In Their Emotions Are Much Like Children, Subject To The Same Tantrums And Fits Of Fury.

In The Hands Of Vicious Men, A Mob Will Do Anything. But Under Good Leaders It's Quite A Different Story.

There Is Something In The Pang Of Change More Than The Heart Can Bear, Unhappiness Remembering Happiness.

Happy The Man Whose Lot It Is To Know The Secrets Of The Earth. He Hastens Not To Work His Fellows Hurt By Unjust Deeds, But With Rapt Admiration Contemplates Immortal Nature's Ageless Harmony, And How And When The Order Came To Be.