Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home

We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go.

One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road.

We go, in winter's biting wind, On many a short-lived winter day, With aching back but willing mind To dig and double dig the clay.

The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor.

The beauty of the soul enfold in spiritual-life.

If the mountain won't come to Mohammed Mohammed must go to the mountain.

Solitude is the place where we can connect with profound bonds that are deeper than the emergency bonds of fear and anger.

There's been so much bad blood between the Kurds and the Turks.

Stand-up is like a movie every night. You write it, direct it, produce it, the audience votes, and you go home. There's nothing more satisfying.

The smartest person in the room is never as smart as all the people in the room.

In the hands of a master, light and shade is one of the great qualities of art.

A photograph can, by the addition of an unimportant spot of color, become a photomontage, a work of art of a special kind.

One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.

Terrorism is simply the weapon by which the weak engage the strong.