The fault rests with the gods, who have made her so stupid.

I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 96% how I react to it.

Lord, come away; Why dost thou stay? Thy road is ready and thy paths made straight With longing expectations wait The consecration of thy beautious feet. Ride on triumphantly; behold! we lay Our lusts and proud wills in thy way. Hosannah! welcome to our hearts: Lord, here Thou hast a temple too, and full as dear As that of Sion; and as full of sin -- Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein; Enter and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor, Crucify them, that they may never more Profane that holy place Where thou hast chose to set thy face. And then if our still tongues shall be Mute in the praises of thy deity, The stones out of the temple wall Shall cry aloud and call Hosannah! and thy glorious footsteps greet.

He likes the poor things of the world the best, I would not, therefore, if I could be rich. It pleases him t stoop for buttercups.

A lot of my peer group think I'm an eccentric bisexual, like I may even have an ammonia-filled tentacle somewhere on my body. That's okay.

I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting.

Your current safe boundries were once unknown frontiers. -Unknown.

Pessimism is only the name that men of weak nerves give to wisdom.

We do not have censorship. What we have is a limitation on what newspapers can report.

The fisherman could perhaps be bought for less than the fish.

O great corrector of enormous times, Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider Of dusty and old titles, that healest with blood The earth when it is sick, and curest the world O' the pleurisy of people.

you're not just whistling Dixie!

Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches The innermost recesses of my spirit!

On this shrunken globe, men can no longer live as strangers.

Don't just get something out of church, put something into it.

My windows open to the autumn night, In vain I watched for sleep to visit me, How should sleep dull mine ears, and dim my sight, Who saw the stars, and listened to the sea? Ah, how the City of our God is fair! If, without sea, and starless though it be, For joy of the majestic beauty there, Men shall not miss the stars, nor mourn the sea.

Language tethers us to the world; without it we spin like atoms.

Men are anxious to improve their circumstances, but are unwilling to improve themselves, they therefore remain bound.

Open-mindedness should not be fostered because, as Scripture teaches, Truth is great and will prevail, nor because, as Milton suggests, Truth will always win in a free and open encounter. It should be fostered for its own sake.

The high note is not the only thing.