It Is Not Death, It Is Dying

We Cannot Do Without It, And Yet We Disgrace And Vilify The Same. It May Be Compared To A Cage, The Birds Without Despair To Get In, And Those Within Despair To Get Out.

A Man Should Ever, As Much As In Him Lieth, Be Ready Booted To Take His Journey, And Above All Things Look He Have Then Nothing To Do But With Himself.

Custom Is A Violent And Treacherous School Mistress. She, By Little And Lithe, Slyly And Unperceived, Slips In The Foot Of Her Authority; But Having By This Gentle And Humble Beginning, With The Benefit Of Time, Fixed And Established It, She Then Unmasks A Furious And Tyrannic Countenance, Against Which We Have No More The Courage Or The Power So Much As To Lift Up Our Eyes.

I Speak To The Paper, As I Speak To The First Person I Meet.

The Truth Of These Days Is Not That Which Really Is, But What Every Man Persuades Another Man To Believe.