Wars in old times were made to get slaves. The modern implement of imposing slavery is debt.

'Tis the white stag, Fame, we're a-hunting, bid the world's hounds come to horn!

The rustling of the silk is discontinued, Dust drifts over the courtyard, There is not sound of footfall, and the leaves Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them: A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.

The intellect is a very nice whirligig toy, but how people take it seriously is more than I can understand.

The individual cannot think and communicate his thought, the governor and legislator cannot act effectively or frame his laws without words, and the solidity and validity of these words is in the care of the damned and despised litterati...when their very medium, the very essence of their work, the application of word to thing goes rotten, i.e. becomes slushy and inexact, or excessive or bloated, the whole machinery of social and of individual thought and order goes to pot.

What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it.

When words cease to cling close to things, kingdoms fall, empires wane and diminish.