Tyranny Is Always Weakness

Good Heavens, Of What Un Costly Material Is Our Earthly Happiness Composed... If We Only Knew It. What Incomes Have We Not Had From A Flower, And How Unfailing Are The Dividends Of The Seasons.

Truth Only Needs To Be For Once Spoken Out; And There's Such Music In Her, Such Strange Rhythm, As Makes Men's Memories Her Joyous Slaves.

The Story Of Any One Man's Real Experience Finds Its Startling Parallel In That Of Every One Of Us.

Here Come The Hum The Golden Bees Underneath Full Blossomed Trees, At Once With Glowing Fruit And Flowers Crowned.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak. Like Other Devil's Weapons, It Is Always Cunningly Ready To Our Hand, And There Is More Poison In The Handle Than In The Point.