He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God; He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.

No Spring nor Summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one Autumnal face.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.

Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?

Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.

What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.

When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.

As a group, we want to follow good and green strategy. Setting targets is one element of that. The second part is to design products which meet environmental goals.

Some people talk the talk and walk the walk while I'm silently running.

Poise: the ability to be ill at ease inconspicuously.

Inspiration is hogwash. My work comes directly out of my loves and hates. Muses don't whisper in my ear, and ideas don't flow over my body like a cool rain.

Frivolity is the species' refusal to suffer.

I would never censor something to please someone. I don't play games.

Tell the story that's in your heart, and don't hold back. Write a book the reader will want to melt into.

If I get home, I'll be so stinking rich, I'll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.

Don't solicit for your sister, it's not nice. Unless you get a good percentage of her price.

But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offense, Crying, 'That's good that's gone.