Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Your temperament is what you write with, but it's also how you deal with the world.
We Indians really should be better liars, considering how often we've been lied to.
Does a little fish, swimming though the net's eye, suffer from inferiority complex?
Never saw the branch you are sittin on, unless they are trying to hang you from it.
The constitution of a country should not violate the constitutions of its citizens.
I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top. But no one knows where the top is.
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.
I had decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
The cat makes himself the companion of your hours of solitude, melancholy and toil.
If you are worthy of its affection, a cat will be your friend but never your slave.
The word poet literally means maker: anything which is not well made doesn't exist.
[A cat] will lie the whole evening on your knee, purring and happy in your society.
Happy thou that learnest from another's griefs, not to subject thyself to the same.
Anyone contemplating world war is certifiably insane, no matter how calm they seem.
At the shrine of friendship never say die, let the wine of friendship never run dry
One can resist the invasion of an army but one cannot resist the invasion of ideas.
You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it.
Work is the law of life, and to reject it as boredom is to submit to it as torment.
To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.
The left-handed are precious; they take places which are inconvenient for the rest.
Kings are for nations in their swaddling-clothes: France has attained her majority.
Try as you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic of the human heart, love.
The ode lives upon the ideal, the epic upon the grandiose, the drama upon the real.
For prying into any human affairs, non are equal to those whom it does not concern.
Sometimes I feel like I'm on top of the world, and other mornings I feel like crap.
Dance till the stars come down from the rafters Dance, Dance, Dance 'till you drop.
Pleasure is by no means an infallible critical guide, but it is the least fallible.
We honor founders of these starving cities, Whose honor is the image of our sorrow.
Tinsel in February, tinsel in August. There are things in a man besides his reason.
The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
The reading of a poem should be an experience. Its writing must be all the more so.
A languid janitor bears His lantern through colonnades And the architecture swoons.
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs.
Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me.
All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
All is procession; the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign'd by God's name.
What do you suppose will satisfy the soul, except to walk free and own no superior?
O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.
We thank Thee, O Father of all, for... all the soul-help that sad souls understand.
Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache: do be my enemy for friendship's sake.
The ignorant Insults of Individuals will not hinder me from doing my duty to my Art
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
for never yet Has lover lived, but longed to wive Like them that are no more alive.
Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
I think you can leave the arts, superior or inferior, to the conscience of mankind.
My father was an angry and impatient teacher and flung the reading book at my head.