Adieu! 'tis love's last greeting, The parting hour is come! And fast thy soul is fleeting To seek its starry home.

Flow wine, smile woman, and the universe is consoled.

What divides men is less a difference in ideas than a likeness in pretensions.

Our friends, the enemy.

When in our days Religion is made a political engine, she exposes herself to having her sacred character forgotten. The most tolerant become intolerant towards her. Believers, who believe something else besides what she teaches, retaliate by attacking her in the very sanctuary itself.

Our century is a brutal thinker.

Glory is a shroud that posterity often tears from the shoulders of those who wore it when living.