The Most Advanced Nations Are Always Those

All History Is But The Lengthened Shadow Of A Great Man.

I Am Always Insincere, As Always Knowing There Are Other Moods.

I Shun Father And Mother And Wife And Brother When My Genius Calls Me. I Would Write On The Lintels Of The Door-post, Whim. I Hope That It Is Somewhat Better Than Whim At Last, But We Cannot Spend The Day In Explanation.

Every Day, A Little Sadder, A Little Madder. Will Someone Get Me A Ladder?

Conservatism, Ever More Timorous And Narrow, Disgusts The Children, And Drives Them For A Mouthful Of Fresh Air Into Radicalism.