Jas in the Arab language is despair, And Min the darkest meaning of a lie. Thus cried the Jessamine among the flowers, How justly doth a lie Draw on its head despair! Among the fragrant spirits of the bowers The boldest and the strongest still was I. Although so fair, Therefore from Heaven A stronger perfume unto me was given Than any blossom of the summer hours.

Above all, I would teach him to tell the truth ... Truth-telling, I have found, is the key to responsible citizenship. The thousands of criminals I have seen in 40 years of law enforcement have had one thing in common: Every single one was a liar.

Better a living beggar than a buried emperor.

Been there, done that.

...it is curiosity, initiative, originality, and the ruthless application of honesty that count in research- much more than feats of logic and memory alone.

The characteristic of genuine heroism is its persistency. All men have wandering impulses, fits and starts of generosity. But when you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself, and do not try to reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be common, nor the common heroic.

The history of every individual man should be a Bible.

Well, I'm not a crook.

An illness is like a journey into a far country; it sifts all one's experience and removes it to a point so remote that it appears like a vision.

Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.

Democracy is essentially anti-authoritarian--that is, it not only demands the right but imposes the responsibility of thinking for ourselves.

Sometimes I worry about being a success in a mediocre world.

We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe.

Men have a much better time of it than women: for one thing they marry later, for another thing they die earlier.

Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound; She feels no biting pang the while she sings, Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.

Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.

Know then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly, The light Militia of the lower sky.

For two decades the state has been taking liberties, and these liberties were once ours.

If words were invented to conceal thought, newspapers are a great improvement of a bad invention.

Poison is drunk out of gold.