History is clarified experience.

They are slaves who fear to speak, for the fallen and the weak.

How I do love the earth. I feel it thrill under my feet. I feel somehow as if it were conscious of my love, as if something passed into my dancing blood from it.

Who is it needs such flawless shafts as fate? What archer of his arrows is so choice, or hits the white so surely?

One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.

All thoughtful men are solitary and original in themselves.

Tyrants are but the spawn of Ignorance, Begotten by the slaves they trample on.