Rough Johnson, The Great Moralist.

To Withdraw Myself From Myself Has Ever Been My Sole, My Entire, My Sincere Motive In Scribbling At All.

There Is A Tear For All Who Die, A Mourner O'er The Humblest Grave.

This Man Is Freed From Servile Bands, Of Hope To Rise, Or Fear To Fall; Lord Of Himself, Though Not Of Lands, And Leaving Nothing, Yet Hath All.

[my Advice] Will One Day Be Found With Other Relics Of 'a Former World,' When This World Shall Be Former, Underground, Thrown Topsy-turvy, Twisted, Crisped, And Curled, Baked, Fried Or Burnt, Turned Inside-out, Or Drowned, Like All The Worlds Before, Which Have Been Hurled First Out Of, And Then Back Again To Chaos, The Superstratum Which Will Overlay Us.

It Is When We Think We Lead That We Are Most Led.