For thirty centuries, from her sacred seat the cat looked down, and crouching at her feet, beheld the race of conquering Pharaohs kneel.

There are four types of men in the world: lovers, opportunists, lookers-on, and imbeciles. The happiest are the imbeciles.

I've met many thinkers and many cats, but the wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.

We study ourselves three weeks, we love each other three months, we squabble three years, we tolerate each other thirty years, and then the children start all over again.

The search for causes must come after the collection of facts.

The production of a work of art is determined by the material and intellectual climate in which a man lives and dies.

Amid this vast and overwhelming space and in these boundless solar archipelagoes, how small is our own sphere, and the earth, what a grain of sand!

Four varieties in society: lovers, the ambitious, observers, and fools. The fools are the happiest.

History is nothing but a problem of mechanics applied to psychology.

To have a true idea of man or of life, one must have stood himself on the brink of suicide, or on the door-sill of insanity, at least once.

Man may be considered as a superior species of animal that produces philosophies and poems in about the same way a silkworm produces their cocoons and bees their hives.

Revealing of origin, evidence the existence of hidden pearls in mind which is addicted to imagine and thought as well.

I'm a restaurant junkie.

Good teams make the playoffs, hot teams win the playoffs.

Ah, lady! it is hardly what you thought it, This life of luxury and social power; You gave yourself as principal, and bought it, But God extracts the interest hour by hour.

The idea is easy to understand. All of life is a dream. You have dreamed everything that you are and everything you are aware of.

I dissolved, so white, so unapproachable, amid my white flame, in the whiteness of moonlight

If there's a reason for the way that life is I'd like to find it. After all, who's life is it?

Hush! With sudden gush As from a fountain sings in yonder bush The Hermit Thrush.

To me Truth is God and there is no way to find Truth except the way of nonviolence.

Too often we think we can act without explaining and take decisions without justifying them.