“Imperceptibly the love of these discords grew upon me as my love of music grew stronger.”

False hope is nicer than no hope at all.

I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness – imperfection – and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.

It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.

A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.

The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.

As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all.

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.

Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.

Stress makes us grow. Some people function better under stress.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.

You grow stronger when you trust in the energy that sustains you. 

To love the imperfect side of yourself is a transformational mindset in itself for growth.

Change is part of growth. Without change nothing is possible.

Growth is no longer blame others for your lack of knowledge.

Courage helps us grow and deploy a positive and optimistic mindset.

The word “your worth it” didn’t mean much to me growing up. I didn’t get to hear it much.