Truth Forever On The Scaffold, Wrong Forever

That Best Academy, A Mother's Knee.

It Is The Privilege Of Genius That Life Never Grows Common Place, As It Does For The Rest Of Us.

No Man Can Produce Great Things Who Is Not Thoroughly Sincere In Dealing With Himself, Who Would Not Exchange The Finest Show For The Poorest Reality, Who Does Not So Love His Work That He Is Not Only Glad To Give Himself For It, But Finds Rather A Gain Than A Sacrifice In The Surrender.

It Is Only The Intellect That Can Be Thoroughly And Hideously Wicked. It Can Forget Everything In The Attainment Of Its Ends. The Heart Recoils; In Its Retired Some Drops Of Childhood's Dew Still Linger, Defying Manhood's Fiery Noon.

Tyrants Are But The Spawn Of Ignorance, Begotten By The Slaves They Trample On.