So Our Lives Glide On:

An Ingenious Web Of Probabilities Is The Surest Screen A Wise Man Can Place Between Himself And The Truth.

In Bed Our Yesterdays Are Too Oppressive: If A Man Can Only Get Up, Though It Be But To Whistle Or To Smoke, He Has A Present Which Offers Some Resistance To The Past—sensations Which Assert Themselves Against Tyrannous Memories.

Nothing Is So Good As It Seems Beforehand.

Souls Live On In Perpetual Echoes.

It's All One Web, Sir. The Prosperity Of The Country Is One Web.