Our Thinking Is A Pious

We Live By Our Imagination, Our Admirations, And Our Sentiments.

If Any Mention Was Made Of Homicide, Madness, Adultery, And Intolerable Tortures, We Would Let The Church-bells Ring Louder, The Church-organ Swell Its Peal And Drown The Hideous Sound. The Sugar They Raised Was Excellent: Nobody Tasted Blood In It.

Skepticism? Yes, But A Saint Is A Skeptic Once In Twenty-four Hours.

A Man In Debt Is So Far A Slave.

Nature Does Not Cocker Us: We Are Children, Not Pets: She Is Not Fond: Everything Is Dealt To Us Without Fear Or Favor, After Severe Universal Laws.