I do not know beneath what sky nor on what seas shall be thy fate; I only know it shall be high, I only know it shall be great.

I am sick of four walls and a ceiling I have need of the sky, I have business with the grass.

Spring in the world! And all things are made new!

Ye who made war that your ships Should lay to at the beck of no nation, Make war now on Murder, that slips The leash of her hounds of damnation; Ye who remembered the Alamo, Remember the Maine!

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.

For 't is always fair weather When good fellows get together With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear.

And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.

I am fevered with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay, For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay.

The East and the West in the spring of the world shall blend / As a man and a woman that plight / Their troth in the warm spring night.

Who would not rather flounder in the fight than not have known the glory of the fray?

Nor love they least Who strike with right good will To vanquish ill And fight God's battle upward from the beast.

Would you wish that someone about cares you?Start care about someone, Then will you definitely deserve at least one person who cares about you!

Sister Hinckley and I are learning that the so-called golden years are laced with lead.

As soon as I finish a book, I sell the paperback rights to different publishers and that's where I recoup my money.

The energy available for each individual man is his income, and the philosophy which can teach him to be content with penury should be capable of teaching him also the uses of wealth.

[Lockyer]... sometimes forgets he is only the editor and not the author of Nature. [Lockyer was the first editor of Nature.]

Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour sober beverage--by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

To be a poet is to place pleasure, beauty and sensual delights front and centre, it means having a predilection for debauchery.

For so long people have just taken what I do for granted. It is not easy to do year-in, year-out, to win Grand Slams and be No. 1.

As an actor, you want to push yourself.

Those people out there like good music. They don't stop and ask themselves, 'Is it country or rock and roll?' If they like it, they will tell you.