Yes, Child Of Suffering, Thou May'st Well

But Friendship Is The Breathing Rose, With Sweets In Every Fold.

And If I Should Live To Be The Last Leaf Upon The Tree In The Spring, Let Them Smile, As I Do Now, At The Old Forsaken Bough Where I Cling.

The Very Aim And End Of Our Institutions Is Just This: That We May Think What We Like And Say What We Think.

Science Is The Topography Of Ignorance.

The Mind Of A Bigot To The Pupil Of The Eye; The More Light You Pour On It, The More It Contracts.