Man's poverty is abysmal, his wants are endless till he becomes truly conscious of his soul. Till then, the world to him is in a state of flux - a phantasm that is and is not.

When a man sleeps he is shut up within the narrow activities of his physical life. He lives, but he knows not the varied relations of his life to his surroundings, - therefore he knows not himself.

Only through pain you achieve your greatness!

People tell you that you cannot, because they do not.

Was it cruel if someone asked for it? Begged for it, even? She always begged. Even now, I could hear her whimpering for me. Christ, those noises she made. A one-way ticket to heaven.

I think that there is a changing wind. There are black conservatives out there, and their voices need to be heard.

If God in his wisdom have brought closeThe day when I must die,That day by water or fire or airMy feet shall fall in the destined snareWherever my road may lie.

Poetry reminds us of the truths about life and human nature that we knew all along, but forgot somehow because they weren't yet in memorable language.

I never posed as a saint. I would have slept with a man for nothing if I liked him well enough.

... freshness trembles beneath the surface of Everyday, a joy perpetual to all who catch its opal lights beneath the dust of habit.

Is your problem really your problem, or is it your attitude towards the problem that's your problem?

I think you have to play your own game and sometimes people don't realise that the play-maker runs the most kilometres on the pitch!