“A louse in the locks of literature.”

Love will conquer at the last.

The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.

Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again.

Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.

In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’.

I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.

Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.

He makes no friend who never made a foe.

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.

You can’t have people making decisions about the future of the world who are scientifically illiterate. That’s a recipe for disaster. And I don’t mean just whether a politician is scientifically literate, but people who vote politicians into office.

Science literacy is the artery through which the solutions of tomorrow’s problems flow.

Somehow it’s O.K. for people to chuckle about not being good at math. Yet if I said, ‘I never learned to read,’ they’d say I was an illiterate dolt.

Literature is a splendid mistress, but a bad wife.

The molecules that comprise our body are traceable to the crucibles of the centers of stars.These atoms and molecules are in us because, in fact, the universe is in us. And, we are not only figuratively, but literally, stardust.

Literature is the one place in any society where, within the secrecy of our own heads, we can hear voices talking about everything in every possible way.

Literature is always personal, always one man’s vision of the world, one man’s experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.

Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.