There is no friend as loyal as a book.

If something is wrong, fix it now. But train yourself not to worry, worry fixes nothing.

Before you react, think. Before you spend, earn. Before you criticize, wait. Before you quit, try.

The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.

Critics are men who watch a battle from a high place then come down and shoot the survivors.

Worry a little bit every day and in a lifetime you will lose a couple of years. If something is wrong, fix it if you can. But train yourself not to worry: Worry never fixes anything.

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.

The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.

I drink to make other people more interesting.

I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.

Names are powerful things.

I thought... that we could at least talk about books.

Theologians may quarrel, but the mystics of the world speak the same language.

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

I feel that special secret current between the public and me. I can hold them with one little note in the air, and they will not breathe. That is a great, great moment.

The wheel goes round and round and round forever. Pleasure, pain, birth and death, lifetime after lifetime, it is endless. All sentient beings experience this, the endless dance of life, the lila.

Plot, rules, nor even poetry, are not half so great beauties in tragedy or comedy as a just imitation of nature, of character, of the passions and their operations in diversified situations.

Oh you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace. What you need is someone to take hold of you

I think the American people should express their preferences and we'll accept their choice.

From beasts we scorn as soulless, In forest, field and den, The cry goes up to witness The soulessness of men