Strange Thoughts Beget Strange Deeds.

The Encomium Of One Incapable Of Flattery Is Indeed Flattering.

Commerce Has Set The Mark Of Selfishness, The Signet Of Its All-enslaving Power, Upon A Shining Ore, And Called It Gold: Before Whose Image Bow The Vulgar Great, The Vainly Rich, The Miserable Proud, The Mob Of Peasants, Nobles, Priests, And Kings, And With Blind Feelings Reverence The Power That Grinds Them To The Dust Of Misery.

The Great Instrument Of Moral Good Is The Imagination.

The Quick Dreams, The Passion-winged Ministers Of Thought.

Lie Bills And Calculations Much Perplexed, With Steam-boats, Frigates, And Machinery Quaint Traced Over Them In Blue And Yellow Paint.