In days of yore, the poet's pen From wing of bird was plunder'd, Perhaps of goose, but now and then, From Jove's own eagle sunder'd. But now, metallic pens disclose Alone the poet's numbers; In iron inspiration glows, Or with the poet slumbers.
John AdamsOur Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.
John Adams