Fate Loves The Fearless.

Silence Is Sorrow's Best Food.

The Pressure Of Public Opinion Is Like The Pressure Of The Atmosphere; You Can't See It - But All The Same, It Is Sixteen Pounds To The Square Inch.

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.

The Thing We Long For, That We Are For One Transcendent Moment.

If We See Light At The End Of The Tunnel, It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.