Crime, To The Man Of

Reform Is Born Of Need, Not Pity. No Vital Movement Of The People Has Worked Down, For Good Or Evil; Fermented, Instead, Carried Up The Heaving, Cloggy Mass.

You Will Find The Poet Who Wrings The Heart Of The World, Or The Foremost Captain Of His Time, Driving A Bargain Or Paring A Potato, Just As You Would Do.

For, After All, Put It As We May To Ourselves, We Are All Of Us From Birth To Death Guests At A Table Which We Did Not Spread.

The Only Hero Known To My Childhood Was Henry Clay.

Men And Women Thought And Did Noble And Mean Things That Would Have Been Impossible To Them Before Or After. A Man Cannot Drink Old Bourbon Long And Remain In His Normal Condition. We Did Not Drink Bourbon, But Blood.