Circles in water as they wider flow The less conspicuous in their progress grow, And when at last they trench upon the shore, Distinction ceases and they're view'd no more.

Deceivers are the most dangerous members of society. They trifle with the best affections of our nature, and violate the most sacred obligations.

From powerful causes spring the empiric's gains, Man's love of life, his weakness, and his pains; These first induce him the vile trash to try, Then lend his name, that other men may buy.

Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.

Oh, rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain; Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.

An infatuated man is not only foolish, but wild.

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash, The daring tribe compound their boasted trash Tincture of syrup, lotion, drop, or pill; All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill.

Habit with him was all the test of truth; It must be right: I've done it from my youth.

In idle wishes, fools supinely stay. Be there a will and wisdom finds a way.

The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies.

A great lie is like a great fish on dry land; it may fret and fling and make a frightful bother, but it cannot hurt you. You have only to keep still, and it will die of itself.

You move forward. You face up to your challenges. You don't retreat. You're young, and sometimes you'll wish you could. But don't.

They were daughters of the sky. Luck belonged to them— never bad, often good, sometimes hard.

Know that when you praise and worship God and appreciate fully all that He is, you open up a channel through which more of His love pours into your heart.

Lacey?" He bowed his head until his face was inches from mine. His smile was still in place, and as his eyes swept over my face, it widened. "Uh-oh. Did you break?

I am not qualified to talk about the diet. Simply because I am not a dietician.

There are no laws, there are no rules, just grab your friend and love him.

Perhaps all of life is no more than a long preparation for the leaving of it.

Ironically, even the fashion in New York or Paris or Milan or whatever, or music in Berlin, or art in, I don't know, Madrid - all these scenes come and go. Everything leads back to Hollywood.

What about Tom Jones? He's made a million and he's a bloody awful singer.

Basically, I wake up at nine o'clock in the morning, go to different record stores, go to the studio, think up different ideas for songs. Just workin'.