Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd; How long, how short, we know not:—this we know, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.

The good he scorn'd Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghost, Not to return; or if it did, its visits Like those of angels, short, and far between.

How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.

Affectation is certain deformity; by forming themselves on fantastic models, the young begin with being ridiculous, and often end in being vicious.

The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.

The tap'ring pyramid, the Egyptian's pride, And wonder of the world, whose spiky top Has wounded the thick cloud.

How shocking must thy summons be, O death, to him that is at ease in his possessions! who, counting on long years of pleasure here, is quite unfurnished for the world to come.

Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before!

Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

Train your Children with Patience, Correct them in Love, Don't Discipline them out of hatred

The silkiness of his voice was a torturous caress that I could have endured for the rest of my life.

Good habits which bring our lower passions and appetites under automatic control leave our natures free to explore the larger experiences of life.

What is the purpose of a city if not to grant the greatest of gifts, anonymity?

There is nothing assured to mortals.

Above the titles of wife and mother, which, although dear, are transitory and accidental, there is the title human being, which precedes and out-ranks every other.

Screenwriting is like ironing. You move forward a little bit and go back and smooth things out.

And because I’m so out of control, I can’t help myself. I’m not even mine anymore, I’m yours, and what if you decide that you don’t want me? How could you want me like I want you?

If they asked how I died tell them: Still angry.