Cured yesterday of my disease, I died last night of my physician.

Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.

Who fastest walks, but walks astray, Is only furthest from his way.

And hope is but a dream of those that wake.

The end must justify the means.

Hope is but the dream of those that wake.

He's half absolv'd Who has confess'd.

They never taste who always drink They always talk who never think.

Similes are like songs of love: They much describe they nothing prove.

Hope is but the dream of those who wake.

One is seldom unchanged by the death of those one loves. It gives me a deeper knowledge of them, and so of oneself in regard to them.

Seperti apakah Anda? Menurut saya, paling tidak Anda adalah apa yang Anda tulis.

It's amazing how the more you read, the less you know.

You are one of the most beautiful and unique flowers in the garden of humanity.

Your unconscious can't work when you are breathing down its neck.

You don't have the bug, so go do what makes you happy.

Your pot broken seemes better then my whole one.

For national and social disasters, for moral and financial evils, the cure begins in the Household.