He That Travels In Theory Has No

Hides From Himself His State, And Shuns To Know That Life Protracted Is Protracted Woe.

Every Man Has A Right To Utter What He Thinks Truth, And Every Other Man Has A Right To Knock Him Down For It. Martyrdom Is The Test.

Then With No Throbs Of Fiery Pain, No Cold Gradations Of Decay, Death Broke At Once The Vital Chain, And Freed His Soul The Nearest Way.

To Live Without Feeling Or Exciting Sympathy, To Be Fortunate Without Adding To The Felicity Of Others, Or Afflicted Without Tasting The Balm Of Pity, Is A State More Gloomy Than Solitude; It Is Not Retreat, But Exclusion From Mankind. Marriage Has Many Pains, But Celibacy Has No Pleasures.

Life Affords No Higher Pleasure Than That Of Surmounting Difficulties, Passing From One Step Of Success To Another, Forming New Wishes And Seeing Them Gratified.