The Voice Of The Majority

A Virtuous Name Is The Precious Only Good, For Which Queens And Peasants' Wives Must Contest Together.

Rigor Pushed Too Far Is Sure To Miss Its Aim, However Good, As The Bow Snaps That Is Bent Too Stiffly.

I Feel An Army In My Fist.

Time Consecrates; And What Is Gray With Age Becomes Religion.

He Who Has Done His Best For His Own Time Has Lived For All Times.