Necessity Dispenseth With Decorum.

Nature Is The Time-vesture Of God That Reveals Him To The Wise, And Hides Him From The Foolish.

A Man Must Indeed Be A Hero To Appear Such In The Eyes Of His Valet.

The Past Is All Holy To Us; The Dead Are All Holy; Even They That Were Wicked When Alive.

No Sooner Does A Great Man Depart, And Leave His Character As Public Property, Than A Crowd Of Little Men Rushes Towards It. There They Are Gathered Together, Blinking Up To It With Such Vision As They Have, Scanning It From Afar, Hovering Round It This Way And That, Each Cunningly Endeavoring, By All Arts, To Catch Some Reflex Of It In The Little Mirror Of Himself.

The Genuine Essence Of Truth Never Dies.