If one waits for the right time to come before writing, the right time never comes.

It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reading is...

Not what we give, but what we share, for the gift without the giver is bare.

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

And blessed are the horny hands of toil.

A father of the church said that property was theft, many centuries before Proudhon was born. Bourdaloue reaffirmed it. Montesquieu was the inventor of national workshops and of the theory that the state owed every man a living. Nay, was not the church herself the first organized democracy?

Time is, after all, the greatest of poets; and the sons of Memory stand a better chance of being the heirs of Fame.