Never may a man prone to believe scandal be a despot or a popular leader! Under his guidance, democracy itself will be despotism.
It is good to be tired and wearied by the futile search after the true good, that we may stretch out our arms to the Redeemer.
Cast your mind on other days that we in coming days may be still the indomitable Irishry.
Lovers may be – and indeed generally are – enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.
Often something comes in from which you can see that the person is good, the book may not be perfect as it is, and the person doesn’t want to do a re-write. That’s something we do almost nothing of.
Today is your own. Tomorrow perchance may never come.
Have you not noticed that love is silence? It may be while holding the hand of another, or looking lovingly at a child, or taking in the beauty of an evening. Love has no past or future, and so it is with this extraordinary state of silence.
Santa Barbara is a paradise; Disneyland is a paradise; the U.S. is a paradise. Paradise is just paradise. Mournful, monotonous, and superficial though it may be, it is paradise. There is no other.
I cannot help fearing that men may reach a point where they look on every new theory as a danger, every innovation as a toilsome trouble, every social advance as a first step toward revolution, and that they may absolutely refuse to move at all.
May peace rule the universe, may peace rule in kingdoms and empires, may peace rule in states and in the lands of the potentates, may peace rule in the house of friends and may peace also rule in the house of enemies.