This is that rest this vain world lends, To end in death that all things ends.

The stars that have most glory have no rest.

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show And straight is gone, as it had never been.

Thus doth the ever-changing course of things Run a perpetual circle, ever turning; And that same day, that highest glory brings, Brings us unto the point of back-returning.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born; Relive my languish, and restore the light.

The greatest works of admiration, And all the fair examples of renown. Out of distress and misery are grown.

Love is a sickness full of woes, all remedies refusing.

Pow'r above pow'rs! O heavenly eloquence! That with the strong rein of commanding words, Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence Of men's affections, more than all their swords!

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.

Striving to tell his woes, words would not come; For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

Custom, that is before all law; Nature, that is above all art.

Freedom is that you harness from being a slave to the one you love.

what you don't know will cost you.

Remember this, posting pictures are like speaking words, you cannot take them back.

If I could take you all back to being babies and just clear those bad habits you learned into adulthood away then the manifesting part would be so easy.

It is better to take many small steps in the right direction than to make a great leap forward only to stumble backward.

I've observed a few things about the few really great people I've had a chance to meet and cover...They need to be around people. You and I require sleep. They require people.

A neat and orderly laboratory is unlikely. It is, after all, so much a place of false starts and multiple attempts.

May everyone live, And may everyone die. Hello, my love, And my love, Goodbye.

Dead fields under a November sky, scattered rose petals brown and turning up at the edges, empty pools scummed with algae, rot, decomposition, dust.

So it is with children who learn to read fluently and well: They begin to take flight into whole new worlds as effortlessly as young birds take to the sky.