My words itch at your ears till you understand them

Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.

I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.

I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least, Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts. One brief house of madness and joy!

The state between birth and death is not sympathetic. It is a flow system. Whatever your conscious level is, that is how you will reincarnate.

We are tired who follow after fantasy and truth that flies: You with only look and laughter stain our hearts with richest dyes.

I begin to understand as never before that holiness is made of dailiness, of living life as it comes to me, not as I insist it be.

Happiness is a condition of mind not a result of circumstances.

There's so much grey to every story - nothing is so black and white.

My boy, the 'quenelles de sole' were splendid, but the peas were poor. You should shake the pan gently, all the time, like this.

It's foul what this money could do, cash corrupts the loyal.

There are many ways to drown, only the most obvious wave their arms as they're going under.

It ar'n't that I loves the fox less, but that I loves the 'ound more.