A Parsimony Of Words Prodigal Of Sense.

Extreme Views Are Never Just; Something Always Turns Up Which Disturbs The Calculations Formed Upon Their Data.

I Never Deny. I Never Contradict. I Sometimes Forget.

The Feathered Arrow Of Satire Has Oft Been Wet With The Heart's Blood Of Its Victims.

The Sympathy Of Sorrow Is Stronger Than The Sympathy Of Prosperity.

You Behold A Range Of Exhausted Volcanoes. Not A Flame Flickers On A Single Pallid Crest.