The most familiar facts are often hardest to understand.

When all usefulness is over, when one is assured of an unavoidable and imminent death, it is the simplest of human rights to choose a quick and easy death in place of a slow and horrible one.

Life is a verb, not a noun.

We grovel and "worship" and pray to God to do what we ourselves ought to have done a thousand years ago, and can do now, as soon as we choose.

The labor of women in the house, certainly, enables men to produce more wealth than they otherwise could; and in this way women are economic factors in society. But so are horses.

To swallow and follow, whether old doctrine or new propaganda, is a weakness still dominating the human mind.

Love grows by service.

Eternity is not something that begins after you are dead. It is going on all the time.

A man's honor always seems to want to kill a woman to satisfy it.

If a woman is really injured by her marriage, she should sue under the employer liability act. She should claim damages--not alimony.

I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy-store.

Work alternated with needful rest is the salvation of man or woman.

Instead of looking at life as a narrowing funnel, we can see it ever widening to choose the things we want to do, to take the wisdom we've learned and create something.

In America time was gold; in Bangladesh, corrugated tin.

I've been really surprised about a lot of the negative comments about artisanal pencil sharpening. Like, it really rubs some people the wrong way.

One does not want glory accepted as a matter of course. One wants to shock and astonish people with it.

I was quite responsible for stirring things up. I conspired to get Ringo in for good; I talked to Paul and John until they came round to the idea.

Government has no place telling you who to fall in love with and who to marry.

Woman's mind Oft' shifts her passions, like th'inconstant wind; Sudden she rages, like the troubled main, Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.

Desolation is a file, and the endurance of darkness is preparation for great light.

For the duration of its collective life, or the time during which its identity may be assumed, each class resembles a hotel or an omnibus, always full, but always of different people.