The Sun's Sweet Ray Is Hovering Discovered.

Silence Is The Essential Condition Of Happiness.

Poverty Sits By The Cradle Of All Our Great Men And Rocks All Of Them To Manhood.

Terrible As Is War, It Yet Displays The Spiritual Grandeur Of Man Daring To Defy His Mightiest Hereditary Enemy--death.

Wherever They Burn Books They Will Also, In The End, Burn Human Beings.

Perhaps Already I Am Dead, And These Perhaps Are Phantoms Vain; - These Motley Phantasies That Pass At Night Through My Disordered Brain. Perhaps With Ancient Heathen Shapes, Old Faded Gods, This Brain Is Full; Who, For Their Most Unholy Rites, Have Chosen A Dead Poet's Skull.