And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.

Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so. Love, only Love.

Like mimic meteors the snow, In silence out of Heaven sifts.

Out of the scabbard of the night By God's hand drawn Flashes his shining sword of light And lo the dawn!

No one looks at the mountains. But they were there, making them all look silly.

We don't hear much from revolutionary feminists who are white because they're not serving the bourgeois agenda of the status quo.

Esteem never makes ingrates.

The child taught to believe any occurrence a good or evil omen, or any day of the week lucky, hath a wide inroad made upon the soundness of his understanding.

If we leave Iraq, terrorists will follow us home.

In every story I have heard, good teachers share one trait: a strong sense of personal identity infuses their work.

Successful people understand the value of time. Once they commit to doing something, they would never cancel.

I feel like every movie is definitely the last one that I've had my moment; that I'm going to be selling autographs at malls.

I feel there’s an existential angst among young people. I didn’t have that. They see enormous mountains, where I only saw one little hill to climb.

People crave a conspiracy for the same reason they crave a god.