A pretty woman is a welcome guest.

Adversity is the first path to truth.

Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?

Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.