I consider theology to be the rhetoric of morals.
All men plume themselves on the improvement of society, and no man improves.
For the world was built in order around the atoms march in tune; Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, The sun obeys them, and the moon.
He that loveth maketh his own the grandeur he loves
I dream of a better tomorrow, where chickens can cross the road and not be questioned about their motives.
Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend