Literature is the effort of man to indemnify himself for the wrongs of his condition.

Cities give us collision. 'Tis said, London and New York take the nonsense out of a man.

Cut these words and they would bleed; they are vascular and alive.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.

Be silly. Be honest. Be kind.

Man is a shrewd inventor, and is ever taking the hint of a new machine from his own structure, adapting some secret of his own anatomy in iron, wood, and leather, to some required function in the work of the world.

I cannot marry the facts of William Shakespeare to his verse: Other men had led lives in some sort of keeping with their thought, but this man is in wide contrast.