Men are apt to prefer a prosperous error before an afflicted truth

Love is friendship set on fire.

He that loves not his wife and children feeds a lioness at home, and broods a nest of sorrows.

God hath given to man a short time here upon earth, and yet upon this short time eternity depends.

Revenge... is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion.

All virtuous women, like tortoises, carry their house on their heads, and their chappel in their heart, and their danger in their eye, and their souls in their hands, and God in all their actions.

It is impossible for that man to despair who remembers that his Helper is omnipotent.

A celibate, like the fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in a perpetual sweetness, but sits alone, and is confined and dies in singularity.

It is impossible to make people understand their ignorance, for it requires knowledge to perceive it; and, therefore, he that can perceive it hath it not.

Meditation is the tongue of the soul and the language of our spirit.

God is pleased with no music below so much as with the thanksgiving songs of relieved widows and supported orphans; of rejoicing, comforted, and thankful persons.

...nothing ever happens quickly (except when it does). Nothing is ever, ever easy (except when it is). And, most of all, nothing ever goes perfectly according to plan (except in the movies).

There is a power in nature that man has ignored. And the result has been heartache and pain.

The Lady may favoryou, but at least I am in charge of my own destiny.

My aim is to escape from the medium with which I work.

The men and women of America's homeland security apparatus do important work to protect us, and Republicans and Democrats in Congress should not be playing politics with that.

I don't know what people have against government; they haven't done anything.

We all miss you so much. It just never ends. It feels like we were all wounded in your battle, Caroline. I miss you. I love you.

In For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hemingway cozies up to revolution by romanticizing it (and not only with those execrable love scenes).

We impose the form of the old on the content of the new.

It's a trip but it hasn't crossed over to the point where women are throwing their panties at me.