History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
When my cats aren't happy, I'm not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they're just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
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