If You Give People Light,

All Your Renown Is Like The Summer Flower That Blooms And Dies; Because The Sunny Glow Which Brings It Forth, Soon Slays With Parching Power.

The Human Race Is In The Best Condition When It Has The Greatest Degree Of Liberty.

Those Ancients Who In Poetry Presented The Golden Age, Who Sang Its Happy State, Perhaps, In Their Parnassus, Dreamt This Place. Here, Mankind's Root Was Innocent; And Here Were Every Fruit And Never-ending Spring; These Streams--the Nectar Of Which Poets Sing.

A Fair Request Should Be Followed By The Deed In Silence.

I Did Not Die, And Yet I Lost Life’s Breath