“Lord, help my poor soul.” — Edgar Allan Poe

The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.

I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.

It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.

In criticism I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.