What Society Wants Is A New Motive,

Cut Off My Head, And Singular I Am, Cut Off My Tail, And Plural I Appear; Although My Middle's Left, There's Nothing There! What Is My Head Cut Off? A Sounding Sea; What Is My Tail Cut Off? A Rushing River; And In Their Mingling Depths I Fearless Play, Parent Of Sweetest Sounds, Yet Mute Forever.

The End Of Government Is The Happiness Of The People.

Facts Are The Mere Dross Of History. It Is From The Abstract Truth Which Interpenetrates Them, And Lies Latent Among Them, Like Gold In The Ore, That The Mass Derives Its Whole Value; And The Precious Particles Are Generally Combined With The Baser In Such A Manner That The Separation Is A Task Of The Utmost Difficulty.

Power, Safely Defied, Touches Its Downfall.

The Highest Eulogy Which Can Be Pronounced On The Revolution Of 1688 Is This That This Was Our Last Revolution.