A faithful dependent, I overlook his folly.

We need never be ashamed of our tears.

Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.

There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.

In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong.

All other swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-swindlers, and with such pretences did I cheat myself.

I never had one hour's happiness in her society, and yet my mind all round the four-and-twenty hours was harping on the happiness of having her with me unto death.

It is not possible to know how far the influence of any amiable, honest-hearted duty-doing man flies out into the world, but it is very possible to know how it has touched one's self in going by.

...and to-morrow looked in my face more steadily than I could look at it

I like maxims that don't encourage behavior modification.-Calvin

It weren’t too loo long before I seen something in me, had changed. A bitter seed was planted inside of me. And I just didn’t feel so, accepting, anymore.

You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.

Ten years is a pretty good run for anything.

Funding from rich countries to help the poor and vulnerable adapt to climate change is not even one percent of what is needed. This glaring injustice must be addressed at Copenhagen in December .

My theory is that we used to have several personalities, and now we're encouraged to have one online.

I had another dream the other day about music critics. They were small and rodent-like with padlocked ears, as if they had stepped out of a painting by Goya.

Their reward for enduring the awful experience was the right to tell people about it.

Being able to play a role where you're there almost every day and you're just in it... I remember it was a whirlwind, but it was a lot of fun.

Silence is an ocean. Speech is a river.