Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.

Follow thou thy choice.

Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.

The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.

Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.