Considering the multitude of mortals that handle the pen in these days, and can mostly spell, and write without glaring violations of grammar, the question naturally arises: How is it, then, that no work proceeds from them, bearing any stamp of authenticity and permanence; of worth for more than one day?

If I had my way, the world would hear a pretty stern command - Exit Christ.

He that has done nothing has known nothing.

Without oblivion, there is no remembrance possible. When both oblivion and memory are wise, when the general soul of man is clear, melodious, true, there may come a modern Iliad as memorial of the Past.

Professors of the Dismal Science, I perceive the length of your tether is now pretty well run; and I must request you to talk a little lower in the future.

Men's hearts ought not to be set against one another, but set with one another and all against evil only.

Coining "Dismal Science" as a nickname for Political Economy