Caesar had perished from the world of men Had not his sword been rescued by his pen.

There is in God - some say - A deep, but dazzling darkness; as men here Say it is late and dusky, because they See not all clear. O for that Night! where I in Him Might live invisible and dim!

I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright.

Dear beauteous death, the jewel of the just.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep. So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted dreams, And into glory peep.

Death, and darkness get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking, All your triumphs now are ended, And what Adam marred, is mended.

The skin and shell of things Though fair are not Thy wish nor prayer but got My meer despair of wings.

They are all gone into the world of light, and I alone sit lingering here.

The sun doth shake Light from his locks, and, all the way Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.

Affliction is a mother, Whose painful throes yield many sons, Each fairer than the other.

Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest And passage through these looms God ordered motion, but ordained no rest.

I like Mercedes because my wife has been in two big accidents and emerged without a scratch, thanks to the safety of these cars.

We have a tendency to put ourselves last, we concentrate on everything else; work, friends, family, home issues, but we ignore the deeper stuff until it becomes so compressed that it can explode.

You are free, you just don't know it" ~Michael to Sarah

Who gives a damn about being remembered? That's really for amateurs.

Books seek us out. They slip themselves into our hands just at the time we are ready for a new self-concept.

Among the works of man, which human life is rightly employed in perfecting, the first in importance surely is man himself.

The Americans are the most gullible, because they don't like to deny co-workers' requests.

The uninitiated are those who believe in nothing except what they can grasp in their hands, and who deny the existence of all that is invisible.

The best is good enough for me.

How now, wit! Whither wander you?