When you love someone, you want to share everything with him or her. So it is your duty to say, "I suffer and I want you to know" - and he will, she will, appreciate it.

Because you are alive, everything is possible.

The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.

Silence is essential. We need silence just as much as we need air, just as much as plants need light. If our minds are crowded with words and thoughts, there is no space for us.

Around us, life bursts with miracles, a glass of water, a ray of sunshine, a leaf, a caterpillar, a flower, laughter, raindrops.

To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself.

It is not impermanence that makes us suffer. What makes us suffer is wanting things to be permanent when they are not.

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible.

The quality of our life depends on the quality of the seeds that lie deep in our consciousness.

Breathing in, I calm body and mind. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment I know this is the only moment.

In a war, the first casualty is human dignity.

It is an exciting adventure, doing what you love.

For her a day of pampering meant comic books, black liquorice, serious exercise, veggie curry and, above all, solitude.

I did not find my studies particularly enthralling.

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.

Library campaigners are not prepared to stand by and watch something they cherish be dismantled brick by brick.

Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.

130 of Automattic's 150 employees work outside of our San Francisco headquarters. Why are so many companies stuck in this factory model of working?

In the education of children there is nothing like alluring the interest and affection; otherwise you only make so many asses laden with books.

Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.