Pay No Attention To The Criticism Of

America, My Country, Is Almost A Continent And Hardly Yet A Nation.

If The Individual, Or Heretic, Gets Hold Of Some Essential Truth, Or Sees Some Error In The System Being Practiced, He Commits So Many Marginal Errors Himself That He Is Worn Out Before He Can Establish His Point.

To Break The Pentameter, That Was The First Heave

If A Nation's Literature Declines, The Nation Atrophies And Decays.

Haie! Haie! These Were The Swift To Harry; These The Keen-scented; These Were The Souls Of Blood. Slow On The Leash, Pallid The Leash-men!