When men and woman die, as poets sung, his heart’s the last part moves, her last, the tongue.

When I am angry I can pray well and preach well.

To me, the extraordinary aspect of martial arts lies in its simplicity. The easy way is also the right way, and martial arts is nothing at all special; the closer to the true way of martial arts, the less wastage of expression there is.

That we must all die, we always knew; I wish I had remembered it sooner.

The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there’s no risk of accident for someone who’s dead.

I was always interested in choreography – in making people think and feel something.

There must be something solemn, serious, and tender about any attitude which we denominate religious. If glad, it must not grin or snicker; if sad, it must not scream or curse.

It is foolish to tear one’s hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

May we so love as never to have occasion to repent of our love!

Death to me means nothing as long as I can die fast.

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil.

When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?

You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lines. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.

Hatred is active, and envy passive dislike; there is but one step from envy to hate.

The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.

Shakespeare – I was very influenced – still am – by Shakespeare. I couldn’t believe that a white man in the 16th century could so know my heart.

I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.

Indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.

Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.

Everyone has been in love, at some point or another.

The person who grieves suffers his passion to grow upon him; he indulges it, he loves it; but this never happens in the case of actual pain, which no man ever willingly endured for any considerable time.

The degree of one’s emotions varies inversely with one’s knowledge of the facts.

Love is a trap. When it appears, we see only its light, not its shadows.

There is a courtesy of the heart; it is allied to love. From its springs the purest courtesy in the outward behavior.

What an encouraging thought that Jesus – our beloved Husband – can find comfort in our lowly feeble gifts! Can this be, for it seems far too good to be true? May we then be willing to endure trials or even death itself if through these hardships we are assisted in bringing gladness to Immanuel’s heart.

When I die, I’m gonna leave my body to science fiction.

Falling in love and having a relationship are two different things.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country. But in modern war, there is nothing sweet nor fitting in your dying. You will die like a dog for no good reason.

One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end.

Whatever your heart clings to and confides in, that is really your God.

Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, content to breathe his native air in his own ground.

The universal order and the personal order are nothing but different expressions and manifestations of a common underlying principle.

If I were a woman, I would love to have lots of kids. But for men, I don’t believe in it.

Sisters, do you realize the breadth and scope of your influence when you speak those things that come to your heart and mind as directed by the Spirit?

Music comes to me more readily than words.

All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.

Love is an interesting thing.

The poets are only the interpreters of the gods.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.

I really didn’t consider myself happy or unhappy.

To run away from trouble is a form of cowardice and, while it is true that the suicide braves death, he does it not for some noble object but to escape some ill.

Waste brings woe, and sorrow hates despair.

As I’m traveling around, I meet many small children. And when I look at a small and think how we’ve harmed this beautiful planet since I was that age, I feel a kind of desperation, anger, shame. I don’t know what I feel; I just don’t know what the emotion is.

A woman’s heart must be of such a size and no larger, else it must be pressed small, like Chinese feet; her happiness is to be made as cakes are, by a fixed recipe.

I seated ugliness on my knee, and almost immediately grew tired of it.

All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Naturally, my stories are about women – I’m a woman. I don’t know what the term is for men who write mostly about men. I’m not always sure what is meant by ‚feminist.‘ In the beginning, I used to say, ‚Well, of course I’m a feminist.‘ But if it means that I follow a kind of feminist theory, or know anything about it, then I’m not.

There is no love of life without despair of life.

Modern poets talk against business, poor things, but all of us write for money. Beginners are subjected to trial by market.

When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

And were an epitaph to be my story I’d have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

I do not think there is any thrill that can go through the human heart like that felt by the inventor as he sees some creation of the brain unfolding to success… such emotions make a man forget food, sleep, friends, love, everything.

No one loves the man whom he fears.

I hate violence, yes I do. It’s kind of a dilemma, huh?.

Some people feel affronted when something they thought to be true doesn’t happen. If that’s the case, then your sense of risk is much higher, and that leads to risk aversion. You need to be able to be comfortable in uncertainty.

Once I knew only darkness and stillness… my life was without past or future… but a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living.

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.

While I understand the passions and the anger that arise over the death of Michael Brown, giving into that anger by looting or carrying guns, and even attacking the police, only serves to raise tensions and stir chaos.