I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.

It's better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

We are all a part of every person we have ever met.

I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions.

...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.

Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.

if you don't concentrate on what you are doing then the thing that you are doing is not what you are thinking.

God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.

You're only as weak as you let yourself become, and you're only as strong as you allow yourself to be.

Silence is more eloquent than words.

If people tell you what you really don't want to hear what's unpleasant-there's an almost automatic reaction of antipathy. You have to train yourself out of it.

The Palestinians are a miserable people...and they deserve to be.

I give opinions, not advice.

Riches, in the hands of a man that is wise and generous, are good for something, but in the hands of a sordid, sneaking, covetous miser, they are good for nothing.

On Mars, the crumbling remains of ancient civilizations may be found, mutely testifying to the one-time glory of a dying world.

I argue that we should be kind, we should be compassionate, and we should definitely be reasonable and rational, but that empathy leads us astray.

Up here my eyes are green leaves, unseeing.

Just as the painter thinks with his brush and paints the novelist thinks with his story.