I love this simple maiden, She grows upon me more and more, And--ask the moon who 't was that kissed, Last night upon the shore!

O sweet September, thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And promise of exceeding joy hereafter.

Here with my beer I sit, while golden moments flit: alas! They pass unheeded by: and as they fly, I, being dry, sit idly sipping here, my beer.

The living need charity more than the dead.

But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do wear the crown, without the cross!

Life for the living, and rest for the dead!

I hold that all the evil we know on earth finds in this violence done to love its true and legitimate birth.

What rare days were those, When my chief duty was to write a song.

The glass of your life is darkened, and darkly through it you see distorted and ghastly fragments of duty and destiny.

I let my summer days pass idly on.

Experience is bitter, but its teachings we retain; It has taught me this--who once has loved, loves never on earth again!

Rain slips through your fingers as easily as words blow away in the wind, and yet it has the power to destroy your whole world.

Punch a black belt in the face, he becomes a brown belt. Punch him again, purple.

What if the world is holding its breath - waiting for you to take the place that only you can fill?

It's one thing to buy a copy of 'Atlas Shrugged.' You actually have to read it to get anything out of it.

I prayed only for a small piece of land, a garden, an ever-flowing spring, and bit of woods.

If you can make it easier to consume, people will consume more of it.

Losing strengthens you. It reveals your weaknesses so you can fix them

People go through life and make personal decisions and sometimes they don't work out. I won't be the first person to be divorced.

Go to the battlefield firmly confident of victory and you will come home with no wounds whatsoever.

There is a divinity awaiting entry into human history at the threshold of our heart's doors.