'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

O For A Horse With Wings!

Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself And Trust No Agent.

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.