So the struck eagle, stretchd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wingd the shaft that quiverd in his heart. – Lord (George Gordon) Byron
I grow daily to honor facts more and more, and theory less and less. A fact, it seems to me, is a great thing — a sentence printed, if not by God, then at least by the Devil. – Thomas Carlyle
