Almighty Framer of the Skies!O let our pure devotion rise,Like Incense in thy Sight!Wrapt in impenetrable Shade,The Texture of our Souls were made,Till thy Command gave Light.

O, Winter! Put away thy snowy pride; O, Spring! Neglect the cowslip and the bell; O, Summer! Throw thy pears and plums aside; O, Autumn! Bid the grape with poison swell.

Happy (if mortals can be) is the man,Who, not by priest but Reason, rules his span:Reason, to its possessor a sure guide,Reason, a thorn in Revelation's side.

How shall we celebrate the day,When God appeared in mortal clay,The mark of worldly scorn;When the Archangel's heavenly Lays,Attempted the Redeemer's Praise,And hail'd Salvation's Morn!

There is a time for all things - except marriage, my dear.

Haste to thie kiste, thie onlie dortoure bedde.Cale, as the claie whiche will gre on thie hedde,Is Charitie and Love aminge highe elves;Knightis and Barons live for pleasure and themselves.

For me, everything has always been an accident.

It's true that there are people who live the idea of being an artist, as opposed to the idea of making art.

How can the intensity of this shame be understood by those who have never experienced it? How can they understand the strength of the motivations produced by the desire to escape from it?

We are all of us imaginative in some form or other, for images are the brood of desire.

I write my lyrics the day I sing the song, so even when I have the basic things, I'm thinking what can I change, what can I add, how many harmonies can I do.

Brigan threw his head back and smiled at the sky. "Well said, Lady. The world may be falling to pieces, but at least the lot of us can have a bath.

Children have a way of forcing you back into the present moment.

Lessons taught but never learned, all around us anger burns. Guide the future by the past. Long ago the mould was cast.

Discontent is want of self-reliance; it is infirmity of will.

E.T., who said to Phyllis Diller, You look weird. Never got a dinner!