There Is No Life Of A Man,

It Is The First Of All Problems For A Man To Find Out What Kind Of Work He Is To Do In This Universe.

Venerable To Me Is The Hard Hand,--crooked, Coarse,--wherein, Notwithstanding, Lies A Cunning Virtue, Indispensably Royal As Of The Sceptre Of The Planet.

He That Works And Does Some Poem, Not He That Merely Says One, Is Worthy Of The Name Of Poet.

The Civil Authority, Or That Part Of It Which Remained Faithful To Their Trust And True To The Ends Of The Covenant, Did, In Answer To Their Consciences, Turn Out A Tyrant, In A Way Which The Christians In Aftertimes Will Mention With Honor, And All Tyrants In The World Look At With Fear.

Biography Is The Only True History.