One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road.

We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go.

We go, in winter's biting wind, On many a short-lived winter day, With aching back but willing mind To dig and double dig the clay.

Poor comfort all comfort: once what the mouse had spared Was enough, was delight, there where the heart was at home

The lily in splendor, the vine in her grace, The fox in the forest, all had their desire, As then I had mine, in the place that was happy and poor.

Faith is always supposed to make it harder, not easier, to ignore the plight of our sisters and brothers. (p. 165)

Resentment is weak and lowers your self-esteem.

One may miss the mark by aiming too high as too low.

Self-expression is for babies and seals where it can be charming. A writer's business is to affect the reader.

With media, it's never bad-to-good. It's always just moving from different to different. Faster, more stuff, but there's always good, more good, and more bad.

I can't just have one painting - I need to cover the wall in paintings. It's the same with my music. I want to mix everything together to create more.

For me as an actor, it's absolutely so thrilling to hear anybody talk about the character that I play.

Absolutely, one hundred percent, not guilty.

Throughout the history of the sport, the heavyweight champion has been... a reason to talk about boxing at the water cooler.

I mean, Dad's - you know, Dad's friendliest tone was a scream.