Fashion being the art of those who must purchase notice at some cheaper rate than that of being beautiful, loves to do rash and extravagant things. She must be forever new, or she becomes insipid.

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.

Silence is sorrow's best food.

Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.

The time is ripe, and rotten-ripe, for change; Then let it come: I have no dread of what Is called for by the instinct of mankind. Nor think I that God's world would fall apart Because we tear a parchment more or less. Truth is eternal, but her effluence, With endless change, is fitted to the hour; Her mirror is turned forward, to reflect The promise of the future, not the past. I do not fear to follow out the truth.

Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.

New occasions teach new duties.