The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.

Happiness is not found in things you possess, but in what you have the courage to release.

No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.

Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.

The thing you set your mind on is the thing you ultimately become.

Our most intimate friend is not he to whom we show the worst, but the best of our nature.

Moonlight is sculpture.

We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest.

In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and the revelry above may cause us to forget their existence.

How do you feel right now?" "I hurt like hell.""You'll feel worse tomorrow.""So?""So, better get a jump on this while you still feel...not as bad.""What kind of logic is that?" I retorted.

Religiosity developed because successful religions made groups more efficient at turning resources into offspring." (including art, cathedrals, cities, earthworks, etc?)

Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.

And in that fraction of a second before anything actually happened, Santino Corleone knew he was a dead man.

A good man ("un homme de bien", Fr.) never wholly perishes, the best part of his being outlives (or survives) in eternity.

Exaggeration is a prodigality of the judgment which shows the narrowness of one's knowledge or one's taste.

The sole evidence it is possible to produce that anything is desirable, is that people do actually desire it.

Riches, in the hands of a man that is wise and generous, are good for something, but in the hands of a sordid, sneaking, covetous miser, they are good for nothing.

Baby, we have no choice of what color we're born or who our parents are or whether we're rich or poor. What we do have is some choice over what we make of our lives once we're here.

When malice is joined to envy, there is given forth poisonous and feculent matter, as ink from the cuttle-fish.