Women wish to be loved without a why or a wherefore; not because they are pretty, or good, or well-bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.

Tell me what you feel in your room when the full moon is shining in upon you and your lamp is dying out, and I will tell you how old you are, and I shall know if you are happy.

There is no respect for others without humility in one's self.

Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not.

Destiny has two ways of crushing us - by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them.

In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past

In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past - a pious guardian of some affection, of which the object has disappeared.

Analysis kills spontaneity. The grain once ground into flour springs and germinates no more.

Truth is not only violated by falsehood; it may be equally outraged by silence.

You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.

Materialism coarsens and petrifies everything, making everything vulgar, and every truth false.

Be careful because brazen behavior and a powerful mind can hide a delicate heart.

He liked what he had too much.

When we look at Abraham, Sarah, Hagar and Ishmael, we see that God's grace can survive our three-ring-circuses of compromise, rationalization and weak faith.

We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds

I am increasingly an architect of self. I am free to will and choose. I can, through accepting my individuality... become more of my uniqueness, more of my potentiality.

You said, 'How is it possible for democracy to work with an illiterate people who are dying of hunger?' But with that people we made a democracy work.

I was a show-off as a kid and loved to dress up. I was constantly in costume, drawing mustaches on with eyeliner and letting my sister plait my hair and all that.

I would have given anything to keep her little. They outgrow us so much faster than we outgrow them. Brian Fitzgerald, talking about his children.

The pretence that numbers are not the humble creation of man, but are the exacting language of the Universe and therefore possess the secret of all things, is comforting, terrifying and mesmeric.

I have a healthy amount of humility.