Histories In Blazonry And Poems

The Bread Of Bitterness Is The Food On Which Men Grow To Their Fullest Stature; The Waters Of Bitterness Are The Debatable Ford Through Which They Reach The Shores Of Wisdom; The Ashes Boldly Grasped And Eaten Without Faltering Are The Price That Must Be Paid For The Golden Fruit Of Knowledge.

Honor Is An Old-world Thing; But It Smells Sweet To Those In Whose Hand It Is Strong.

The State Only Aims At Instilling Those Qualities In Its Public By Which Its Demands Are Obeyed, And Its Exchequer Is Filled. Its Highest Attainment Is The Reduction Of Mankind To Clockwork. In Its Atmosphere All Those Finer And More Delicate Liberties, Which Require Treatment And Spacious Expansion, Inevitably Dry Up And Perish. The State Requires A Taxpaying Machine In Which There Is No Hitch, An Exchequer In Which There Is Never A Deficit, And A Public, Monotonous, Obedient, Colorless, Spiritless, Moving Humbly Like A Flock Of Sheep Along A Straight High Road Between Two Walls.

Scandals Are Like Dandelion Seeds--they Are Arrow-headed, And Stick Where They Fall, And Bring Forth And Multiply Fourfold.

What Is Failure Except Feebleness? And What Is It To Miss One's Mark Except To Aim Widely And Weakly?