Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
You know what the Englishman’s idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no God. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two statements.
The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.
One should not lose one’s temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.
The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought – asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.
I have believed the best of every man. And find that to believe is enough to make a bad man show him at his best, or even a good man swings his lantern higher.
Be secret and exult, Because of all things known That is most difficult.
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
I am of a healthy long lived race, and our minds improve with age.