There’s a magic in the distance, where the sea-line meets the sky.

Oh, grown-ups cannot understand, And grown-ups never will, How short the way to fairyland Across the purple hill.

Heart of my heart, the world is young; Love lies hidden in every rose!

Happy, happy, happy for all that God hath done, Glad of all the little leaves dancing in the sun.

Beauty is a fading flower,Truth is but a wizard's tower,Where a solemn death-bell tolls,And a forest round it rolls.

Only in souls the Christ is brought to birth, And there He lives and dies.

Outlawed, but not alone, for Love Is outlawed, too. You cannot banish us, proud world: We banish you.

Luke associates John with Peter in Acts, when, after the Resurrection, that strange boldness had come upon the disciples.

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

Bring the buds of the hazel-copse, Where two lovers kissed at noon; Bring the crushed red wild-thyme tops Where they murmured under the moon.

If ever I had any doubts about the fundamental realities of religion, they could always be dispelled by one memory- the light upon my father's face as he came back from early communion.

The senate is a place filled with goodwill and good intentions, and if the road to hell is paved with them, then it's a pretty good detour. Hubert Humphrey, as quoted by Biden, p. 134

By music minds an equal temper know, Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. . . . . Warriors she fires with animated sounds. Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds.

How many years of fatigue and punishment it takes to learn the simple truth that work, that disagreeable thing, is the only way of not suffering in life, or at all events, of suffering less.

I've been water-boarded, and I speak from experience, and it's torture.

Strangely, it is the pig himself becomes The god inside the car

I haven't talked to [Donald] Trump since he made his comments about [John] McCain being captured; now he doesn't respect military guys that get captured.

We must not only be patient with others, infinitely patient, but also with our own poor selves.

It’s quite easy to accidentally overhear people talking downstairs if you hold an upturned glass to the floorboards and accidentally put your ear to it.

Sometimes it seems as if I have spent the first half of my life refusing to let white people define me and the second half refusing to let black people define me.

The primary dues a writer or any artist pays is to remain sentient, and to forfeit the illusionary luxury of such anesthetics as avoidance, numbness, and denials.