“Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, – but it returneth!”

Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.

Fame, power, and gold, are loved for their own sakes – are worshipped with a blind, habitual idolatry.

All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.

Heaven’s ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.

I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.

When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead – When the cloud is scattered The rainbow’s glory is shed.

Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.

It is not a merit to tolerate, but rather a crime to be intolerant.

Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.

When a thing is said to be not worth refuting you may be sure that either it is flagrantly stupid – in which case all comment is superfluous – or it is something formidable, the very crux of the problem.

Love’s very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.

The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer; and the vessel of the state is driven between the Scylla and Charybdis of anarchy and despotism.

I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.

Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle-Why not I with thine?

War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.

The self is not something ready-made, but something in continuous formation through choice of action.

Even the smallest person can change the course of the future

The most radical revolutionary will become a conservative the day after the revolution.

The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.

Want your voice to be heard? Use your voice. Want more change? Make more change. Need more love? Give more love.

To think new thoughts you have to break the bones in your head.

Our thinking today is charged with the task to think what the Greeks have thought in an even more Greek manner.

I suppose it is out of laziness that the world is the same day after day. Today it seemed to want to change. And then anything, anything could happen.