Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

My soul is in the sky.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.

I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.

Four days will quickly steep themselves in nightsFour nights will quickly dream away the time.

O hell! to choose love by another's eye.

You know what each house should have? A Duty Free space. Like at the airports. Then I might consider moving in with a woman.

[Hobbits] love peace and quiet and a good tilled earth.

You can't sail towards your future if you're still anchored in the past.

From the point of view of a tapeworm, man was created by God to serve the appetite of the tapeworm.

It is through many lifetimes of shifting the aggregate of the self that one finally reaches a point of maximum velocity whereby one can snap off the circle completely and move into freedom.

Writers learn their craft, above all, from the work of other writers. From reading.

I think the essence of [Kurt] Vonnegut's humanism lay in his emphasis on human kindness as, so to speak, our saving grace.

A picture should be the expression of the will of the painter.

...we must be wary of granting too much power to natural selection by viewing all basic capacities of our brain as direct adaptations.

The sun has already set on the days we made those choices. We must concentrate on what we can do tomorrow; we can't relive yesterday.