“Love is something so divine, Description would but make it less; ‘Tis what I feel, but can’t define, ‘Tis what I know but can’t express”

One murder made a villain, Millions a hero. Princes were privileged To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.

War its thousands slays, Peace its ten thousands.

But chiefly Thou, Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven To bleed for man, to teach him how to live, And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.

The joy resulting from the diffusion of blessings to all around us is the purest and sublimest that can ever enter the human mind, and can be conceived only by those who have experienced it.

Bad thoughts quickly ripen into bad actions.

Next to the consolations of divine grace, it is the most sovereign balm to the miseries of life, both in him who is the object of it, and in him who exercises it.

Through the sequester’d vale of rural life The venerable patriarch guileless held The tenor of his way.

One murder makes a villian, millions a hero

I’m always described as ‘cocksure’ or ‘with a swagger,’ and that bears no resemblance to who I feel like inside. I feel plagued by insecurity.

A picture is never anything but its own plural description.

Jazz is not just music, it’s a way of life, it’s a way of being, a way of thinking the new inventive phrases we make up to describe things – all that to me is jazz just as much as the music we play.

Or those who still believe that language is ‘only words’ and that an old language is good enough for our descriptions of the world we are trying to transform.

I don’t feel any pressure from fans. But I’m always in some kind of state of emotional turmoil. I would not describe myself as happy-go-lucky. That’s not to say that I’m not happy.

And when you clear away the cobwebs of the description of every job in the world, at the bottom of that job is service.

Worrying that banning flag desecration would inhibit free speech reveals a misunderstanding of the flag’s fundamental nature.

The treasure I have found cannot be described in words, the mind cannot conceive of it.