Policies are many, Principles are few, Policies will change, Principles never do.

Amongst so many borrowed things, am glad if I can steal one, disguising and altering it for some new service.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

To become a thoroughly good man is the best prescription for keeping a sound mind and a sound body.

And rank for her meant duty, various, Yet equal in its worth, done worthily. Command was service; humblest service done By willing and discerning souls was glory.

You think him to be your dupe; if he feigns to be so who is the greater dupe, he or you?

O friends, be men; so act that none may feel Ashamed to meet the eyes of other men. Think each one of this children and his wife, His home, his parents, living yet and dead. For them, the absent ones, I supplicate, And bid you rally here, and scorn to fly.

In some sense man is a microcosm of the universe; therefore what man is, is a clue to the universe. We are enfolded in the universe.

Hell is paved with the skulls of great scholars, and paled in with the bone of great men.

Every sweet hath its sour, every evil its good.

I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me.

Could we teach taste or genius by rules, they would be no longer taste and genius.

Soul-winning and missions is the life blood of the church.

Never let your zeal outrun your charity. The former is but human, the latter is divine.

The impersonal hand of government can never replace the helping hand of a neighbor.

When a woman behaves like a man why doesn't she behave like a nice man?

There's nothing remarkable about it. All one has to do is hit the right keys at the right time and the instrument plays itself.

What's the subject of life - to get rich? All of those fellows out there getting rich could be dancing around the real subject of life.

Victims suggest innocence. And innocence, by the inexorable logic that governs all relational terms, suggests guilt.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour, The paths of glory lead but to the grave.