Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.

Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.

Self-defense is Nature's eldest law.

…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky

He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.

When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.

Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

Dead men tell no tales.

Dancing is the poetry of the foot.

The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.

Fortune befriends the bold.

Is he always like this?" she said irritably. "Flying by the seat of his pants?""Pretty much, yeah." Oliver grinned. "He's not a planner. But he happens to be the best improviser I've ever known.

One good thing about leaving daily journalism was that I was no longer obliged to read all the book prize short lists.

All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.

When you hear Bach or Mozart, you hear perfection. Remember that Bach, Mozart and Beethoven were great improvisers. I can hear that in their music.

The growth of a naturalist is like the growth of a musician or athlete: excellence for the talented, lifelong enjoyment for the rest, benefit for humanity.

Whenever a separation is made between liberty and justice, neither, in my opinion, is safe.

There can be little doubt that in many ways the story of bridge building is the story of civilisation. By it we can readily measure an important part of a people's progress.

When you bring the darkness to the table, it doesn't rule you or hurt other people, but when we keep it secret, it's dangerous.

Success is sweet, but the secret is sweat.

It is not tricks of sense But the time's fright within me which distracts Least fancies into violence