Man is fond of reckoning up his troubles, but does not count his joys.

A cultivated and decent man cannot be vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and without despising and almost hating himself at certain moments.

The whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano key.

But man is a fickle and disreputable creature and perhaps, like a chess-player, is interested in the process of attaining his goal rather than the goal itself.

I am alone, I thought, and they are everybody.

It is a law of nature that every decent man on earth is bound to be a coward and a slave

I will put up with any mockery rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry.

For though your mind is active enough, your heart is darkened with corruption, and without a pure heart there can be no full or genuine sensibility.

What does reason know? Reason only knows what it has succeeded in learning...

Man only likes counting his grief, he doesn't count his happiness. But if he were to count properly, he'd see that there's enough of both lots for him.

I invented adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at least to live in some way.

On Earth, men and women are taking the same risks. Why shouldn't we be taking the same risks in space?

When a person doesn't have gratitude, something is missing in his or her humanity.

Why are you doing this to me? What kind of country did I save in my previous life?

Life changes, people come and go and seasons never last. Karen kingsbury # Leaving

Years ago, I thought old age would be dreadful, because I should not be able to do things I would want to do. Now I find there is nothing I want to do after all

It's a shame that humans don't come with reset buttons.

I think that music has been a great help to me and this has been confirmed by every psychiatrist I have seen. I would probably be dead if not for music.

Our true enemies are: ignorance and limitation.

I can never stand still. I must explore and experiment. I am never satisfied with my work. I resent the limitations of my own imagination.

I can't even remember the first time I started singing.