“Shine, Perishing Republic”: While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire. And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens. I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit...
...And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master. There is the trap that catches the noblest spirits, that caught—they say—God, when he walked on earth.