La literatura no es otra cosa que un sueño dirigido.

I ask now, standing with my scissors among my flowers, Where can the shadow enter? [. . .] I am sick of the body, I am sick of my own craft, industry and cunning, of the unscrupulous ways of the mother who protects, who collects under her jealous eyes at one long table her own children, always her own.

To be good is noble; but to show others how to be good is nobler and no trouble.

the habits of the governed determine in a great degree what is practicable.

Written By Jon Meacham

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