“I do honor the very flea of his dog.”

The burnt child dreads the fire.

Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant; and of all tame a flatterer.

Greatness of name, in the father, ofttimes helps not forth, but overwhelms the son: They stand too near one another. The shadow kills the growth.

Nor use too swelling, or ill-sounded words . . . .

Fear to do base, unworthy things is valor; if they be one to us, to suffer them is valor too.

Nothing is more short-lived than pride.

How ready is heaven to those that pray!

Peace is never more than one thought away.

Heaven prepares good men with crosses; but no ill can happen to a good man.

Love that is ignorant and hatred have almost the same ends.

Hell itself must yield to industry.

Tis the common disease of all your musicians that they know no mean, to be entreated, either to begin or end.

A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his government is groping.

O! How vain and vile a passion is this fear! What base uncomely things it makes men do.

One woman reads another’s character Without the tedious trouble of deciphering

A valiant man Ought not to undergo, or tempt a danger, But worthily, and by selected ways, He undertakes with reason, not by chance. His valor is the salt t’ his other virtues, They’re all unseason’d without it.

Playing in the same team as Sachin is a huge honour. His balance of mind, shrewd judgment, modesty and, above all, his technical brilliance make him my all-time hero. You can’t get a more complete cricketer than Sachin. He has everything that a cricketer needs to have.

Honor the hands that harvest your crops.

As secretary of state it’s been an enormous honor to represent this great country that I love so much – I have really seen that our great strengths are in the ability of people to reach their potential here.

The wildness in me honors the wildness in you.

The more you care about the powerless, the more power you have. The more you serve those with no influence, the more influence God gives you. The more you humble yourself, the more you’re honored by others.

Freedom, Truth, Honour, you could rattle off a hundred such words and behind every one of them would gather a thousand punks, pompous little farts, waving the banner with one hand and reaching under the table with the other.

Like the lotus flower that is born out of mud, we must honor the darkest parts of ourselves and the most painful of our life’s experiences, because they are what allow us to birth our most beautiful self.

The grief we carry is part of the grief of the world. Hold it gently. Let it be honored. You do not have to keep it in anymore. You can let go into the heart of compassion; you can weep.