We Are No Longer Happy

The Tomb Is The Pedestal Of Greatness. I Make A Distinction Between God's Great And The King's Great.

Authors Are Like Cattle Going To A Fair: Those Of The Same Field Can Never Move On Without Butting One Another.

If There Were No Falsehood In The World, There Would Be No Doubt, If There Were No Doubt, There Would Be No Inquiry; If No Inquiry, No Wisdom, No Knowledge, No Genius; And Fancy Herself Would Lie Muffled Up In Her Robe, Inactive, Pale, And Bloated.

Cruelty In All Countries Is The Companion Of Anger; But There Is Only One, And Never Was Another On The Globe, Where She Coquets Both With Anger And Mirth.

Truth Is A Point, The Subtlest And Finest; Harder Than Adamant; Never To Be Broken, Worn Away, Or Blunted. Its Only Bad Quality Is, That It Is Sure To Hurt Those Who Touch It; And Likely To Draw Blood, Perhaps The Life Blood, Of Those Who Press Earnestly Upon It.