Sleep is not, death is not; Who seem to die Live. House you were born in, Friends of your spring-time, old man and young maid, Day's toil and it's guerdon, They are all vanishing, Fleeing to fables, Cannot be moored.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
A man is a hero, not because he is braver than anyone else, but because he is brave for ten minutes longer.
Cut these words and they would bleed; they are vascular and alive.
The great person is one who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
Character is always known. Thefts never enrich; alms never impoverish; murder will speak out of stone walls.
Not in nature but in man is all the beauty and worth he sees.