All men in the abstract are just and good.
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.
Every hero becomes a bore at last.
Wisdom is infused into every form.
Adult males are what their moms designed them.
The evils of popular government appear greater than they are; there is compensation for them in spirit and energy it awakens.