“When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.”

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.

I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.

There is no disease, bodily or mental, which adoption of vegetable diet, and pure water has not infallibly mitigated, wherever the experiment has been fairly tried.

Sometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.

When my cats aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they’re just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.

Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs, – To the silent wilderness, Where the soul need not repress Its music.

The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.

The voice of Nature loudly cries,And many a message from the skies,That something in us never dies.

I sing the progress of a deathless soul.

That’s why love is so inseparable from any talk about truth and death, because we know that love is fundamentally a death of an old self that was isolated and the emergence of a new self now entangled with another self, the self that you fall in love with.

You stand on dead men’s legs. You’ve never had any of your own. You couldn’t walk alone between two sunrises and hustle the meat for your belly.

The past has to be seen to be dead; or the past will kill.

The dangerous man is the one who has only one idea, because then he’ll fight and die for it.

Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.