Who claims Truth, Truth abandons. History is hir'd, or coerc'd, only in Interests that must ever prove base. She is too innocent, to be left within the reach of anyone in Power,- who need but touch her, and all her Credit is in the instant vanish'd, as if it had never been. She needs rather to be tended lovingly and honorably by fabulists and counterfeiters, Ballad-Mongers and Cranks of ev'ry Radius, Masters of Disguise to provide her the Costume, Toilette, and Bearing, and Speech nimble enough to keep her beyond the Desires, or even the Curiosity, of Government.

Hey, over here! Have your picture taken with a reclusive author! Today only, we'll throw in a free autograph! But wait, there's more!

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

For every kind of vampire, there is a kind of cross

There was no difference between the behavior of a god and the operations of pure chance.

Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.

Get too conceptual, too cute and remote, and your characters die on the page.