There is no fence or hedge round time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

O, there is lovely to feel a book, a good book, firm in the hand, for its fatness holds rich promise, and you are hot inside to think of good hours to come.

Why is it, I wonder, that people suffer, when there is so little need, when an effort of will and some hard work would bring them from their misery into peace and contentment.

I saw my father as a man, and not, as a man who was my father.

You will only learn in a fight how much you've got to learn.

Everywhere was singing, all over the house was singing, and outside the house was alive with singing, and the very air was song.

Strange that only a little problem of your own will take your mind far from a tragedy belonging to others.

How green was my valley then, and the valley of them that have gone.

Glorious is the Voice of Man, and sweet is the music of the harp.

Let the Unions become engines for the working people to right their wrongs. Not benefit societies, or burial clubs. Let the Unions become civilian regiments to fight in the cause of the people.

O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might.

Some people are in misery of carrying the entire world’s pain on their shoulders. They are called writers.

Meditation is a process of lightening up, of trusting the basic goodness of what we have and who we are, and of realizing that any wisdom that exists, exists in what we already have.

We didn't come all the way up here to compromise for no more than we’d gotten here. We didn't come all this way for no two seats, 'cause all of us is tired.

I think when people get comfortable is when they fall off.

The strength of walls depends on the courage of those who guard them.

Justice always has context.

I have lived as plain Mr. Jinnah and I hope to die as plain Mr. Jinnah. I am very much averse to any title or honours and I will be more than happy if there was no prefix to my name.

Claire: Seriously? My mom? Let you in my room? In the middle of the night? Michael: Moms like me.

God, eldest of Poets.

I just heard the latest joke about my hair: 'Do you know what that is on her head? It's a steering wheel to drive the state.