Let the advocate of animal food, force himself to a decisive experiment on its fitness, and as Plutarch recommends, tear a living lamb with his teeth, and plunging his head into its vitals, slake his thirst with the steaming blood; when fresh from the deed of horror let him revert to the irresistible instincts of nature that would rise in judgment against it, and say, Nature formed me for such work as this. Then, and then only, would he be consistent.

Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches.

Design must be proved before a designer can be inferred.

As belief is a passion of the mind, no degree of criminality is attachable to disbelief.

The soul's joy lies in doing.

I have neither curiosity, interest, pain nor pleasure, in anything, good or evil, they can say of me. I feel only a slight disgust, and a sort of wonder that they presume to write my name.

That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.