Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment.

Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.

Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment.

Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.

Choose an author as you would a friend.

Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.

Our heroes of the former days deserved and gained their never-fading bays.