Striving to tell his woes, words would not come; For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

The stars that have most glory have no rest.

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show And straight is gone, as it had never been.

Thus doth the ever-changing course of things Run a perpetual circle, ever turning; And that same day, that highest glory brings, Brings us unto the point of back-returning.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born; Relive my languish, and restore the light.

The greatest works of admiration, And all the fair examples of renown. Out of distress and misery are grown.

Love is a sickness full of woes, all remedies refusing.

Pow'r above pow'rs! O heavenly eloquence! That with the strong rein of commanding words, Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence Of men's affections, more than all their swords!

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.

Custom, that is before all law; Nature, that is above all art.

Flattery, the dangerous nurse of vice.

Thank God for today’s grace.

When I see everyone rushing in one direction, I know it's time to move the other way.

If the West can claim superiority in anything, it is . . . in science and scientific technique.

You leave white people alone in constant isolation for 2,000 years, and you know what their musical contribution will be? Riverdance!

I ain't got no beef with east coast, I think it's just being hyped up.

It's all about consistency, and what makes a child or a dog secure: order, clarity - all those things.

I don't think comedy is something you learn. I think it's something that's either there or it's not.

The Holy Spirit was not sent so we can have bless ups in our churches but so the world can be changed.

My first album came out in 1979.

What's any artist, but the dregs of his work? the human shambles that follows it around. What's left of the man when the work's done but a shambles of apology.