The Mark Of A Civilized

The Worst Of A Modern Stylish Mansion Is That It Has No Place For Ghosts.

Our Dead Brothers And Sisters Still Live For Us And Bid Us Think Of Life, Not Death-of Life To Which In Their Youth They Lent The Passion And Glory Of Spring. As I Listen, The Great Chorus Of Life And Joy Begins Again, And Amid The Awful Orchestra Of Seen And Unseen Powers And Destinies Of Good And Evil, Our Trumpets Sound Once More A Note Of Daring, Hope, And Will.

Taxes Are What We Pay For Civilized Society

Every Man Is An Omnibus In Which His Ancestors Ride.

A Man's Opinions Are Generally Of Much More Value Than His Arguments.