Christianity is a battle, not a dream.

How prudently most men creep into nameless graves, while now and then one or two forget themselves into immortality.

Write on my gravestone: 'Infidel, Traitor.', infidel to every church that compromises with wrong; traitor to every government that oppresses the people.

Many men know how to flatter, few men know how to praise.

Political convulsions, like geological upheavings usher in new epochs of the world's progress.

The hand entrusted with power becomes, either from human depravity or esprit de corps, the necessary enemy of the people

Neither do I acknowledge the right of Plymouth to the whole rock. No, the rock underlies all America: it only crops out here.