It is natural to man to indulge in the illusion of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of the siren, till she transforms us into beasts.

Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.

In great straits and when hope is small, the boldest counsels are the safest.

Let's sleep on it and talk about it in the morning.

A wonderful discovery--psychoanalysis. Makes quite simple people feel they're complex.

Nobody with me at sea but myself.

We should take care not to make the intellect our god; it has, of course, powerful muscles, but no personality.

turn it around the horn (baseball cliche.

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of fraity sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.

Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole, The index pointing at Him is our soul; Death the horizon, when our sun is set, Which will through Christ a resurrection get.

If all the gold in the world were melted down into a solid cube it would be about the size of an eight room house. If a man got possession of all that gold -- billions of dollars worth -- he could not buy a friend, character, peace of mind, clear conscience or a sense of eternity.

By constant self-discipline and self-control you can develop greatness of character

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

The man who seeks one thing in life, and but one, May hope to achieve it before life be done, But he who seeks all things, wherever he goes, Only reaps from the hopes which around him he sows A harvest of barren regrets.

There grewe an aged tree on the greene; A goodly Oake sometime had it bene, With armes full strong and largely displayed, But of their leaves they were disarayde The bodie bigge, and mightely pight, Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight; Whilome had bene the king of the field, And mochell mast to the husband did yielde, And with his nuts larded many swine: But now the gray mosse marred his rine; His bared boughes were beaten with stormes, His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes, His honour decayed, his brauches sere.

A hundred thousand men were led By one calf near three centuries dead; They followed still his crooked way And lost a hundred years a day; For thus such reverence is lent To well established precedent.

I don't pay good wages because I have a lot of money; I have a lot of money because I pay good wages.

Promises are meant to be kept, for they are like precious pearls in an ocean, their value is high and quality genuine and true, and once they are made they can never be broken.

If anything is spoken in jest, it is not fair to turn it to earnest.

The best time to start thinking about your retirement is before the boss does.