Ah, Men Do Not Know

It Is Not A Great Xerxes Army Of Words, But A Compact Greek Ten Thousand That March Safely Down To Posterity.

Let Us Be Of Good Cheer, However, Remembering That The Misfortunes Hardest To Bear Are Those Which Never Come.

I Tell Ye Wut, My Judgment Is You're Pooty Sure To Fail, Ez Long 'z The Head Keeps Turnin' Back For Counsel To The The Tail.

There Is No Self-delusion More Fatal Than That Which Makes The Conscience Dreamy With The Anodyne Of Lofty Sentiments, While The Life Is Groveling And Sensual

Men Have Their Intellectual Ancestry, And The Likeness Of Some One Of Them Is Forever Unexpectedly Flashing Out In The Features Of A Descendant, It May Be After A Gap Of Several Centuries. In The Parliament Of The Present Every Man Represents A Constituency Of The Past.