“Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.”

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.

I have observed dreams and visions very carefully, and am now certain that the imagination has some way of lighting on the truth that the reason has not, and that its commandments, delivered when the body is still and the reason silent, are the most binding we can ever know.

An intellectual hate is the worst.

The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.

Myself I must remake.

Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.

Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.

Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.

What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.

I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.

I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.

Hammer your thoughts into unity.

I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’

We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.

Whenever death may surprise us, let it be welcome if our battle cry has reached even one receptive ear and another hand reaches out to take up our arms.

I cried over beauty, I cried over pain, and the other time I cried because I felt nothing. I can’t help it. I’m just a cliché of myself.

All of a sudden to get all of this attention, and to be away from home and working all the time was hard. I was on planes all the time. I didn’t see my friends. I cried a lot. It was quite terrifying.

I don’t have to live up to that Superwoman myth. I can cry and be human and lean on people who take care of me. That can be very liberating.

Crying for someone you love doesn’t make you a weak person.

A loving relationship is one in which the loved one is free to be himself – to laugh with me, but never at me; to cry with me, but never because of me; to love life, to love himself, to love being loved. Such a relationship is based upon freedom and can never grow in a jealous heart.

I’m an emotional gangster. I cry once every month.

Sometimes, we all laugh for a joke which is not funny and cry for a love not meant to be.