|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||
I was court-martialled in my absence, and sentenced to death in my absence, so I said they could shoot me in my absence.
Each problem that I solved became a rule which served afterwards to solve other problems.
I have learnt silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers.
Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies, but let wasps and hornets break through.
We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.
Man as an individual is a genius. But men in the mass form the Headless Monster, a great, brutish idiot that goes where prodded.
The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Nature are the terms used in fairy books, charm, spell, enchantment. They express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mystery.
In any country there must be people who have to die. They are the sacrifices any nation has to make to achieve law and order.
I don't know why it is we are in such a hurry to get up when we fall down. You might think we would lie there and rest a while.
Power intoxicates men. When a man is intoxicated by alcohol, he can recover, but when intoxicated by power, he seldom recovers.
In the U.S. you have to be a deviant or exist in extreme boredom…Make no mistake; all intellectuals are deviants in the U.S.
For Mercy has a human heart, Pity, a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.
What one knows is, in youth, of little moment; they know enough who know how to learn.
In his holy flirtation with the world, God occasionally drops a handkerchief. These handkerchiefs are called saints.
I believe, if we take habitual drunkards as a class, their heads and their hearts will bear an advantageous comparison with those of any other class. There seems ever to have been a proneness in the brilliant and warm-blooded to fall into this vice.
I have heard that nothing gives an Author so great Pleasure, as to find his Works respectfully quoted by other learned Authors.
The artist is a recepticle for the emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web.
He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.
