“Leaders should lead as far as they can and then vanish. Their ashes should not choke the fire they have lit.”

Our true nationality is mankind.

Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.

A time will come when a politician who has willfully made war and promoted international dissension will be as sure of the dock and much surer of the noose than a private homicide. It is not reasonable that those who gamble with men’s lives should not stake their own.

Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.

Sailors ought never to go to church. They ought to go to hell, where it is much more comfortable.

Cynicism is humor in ill health.

What really matters is what you do with what you have.

Nothing leads so straight to futility as literary ambitions without systematic knowledge.

We are living in 1937, and our universities, I suggest, are not half-way out of the fifteenth century.

Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.

Some people bear three kinds of trouble – the ones they’ve had, the ones they have, and the ones they expect to have.

In England we have come to rely upon a comfortable time-lag of fifty years or a century intervening between the perception that something ought to be done and a serious attempt to do it.

One of the darkest evils of our world is surely the unteachable wildness of the Good.

There’s nothing wrong in suffering, if you suffer for a purpose. Our revolution didn’t abolish danger or death. It simply made danger and death worthwhile.

In politics, strangely enough, the best way to play your cards is to lay them face upwards on the table.

There is nothing in machinery, there is nothing in embankments and railways and iron bridges and engineering devices to oblige them to be ugly. Ugliness is the measure of imperfection.

I have learned that you’re not perfect, and that sometimes the one you love can burn you. But it’s just the fool that’s looking backwards: a bitter heart turns the love we made to ashes.

Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

My pen is alight and my body aflame. Until both burn down to ash, my love and my hate will remain here in the world.

I had learned one of the bitter lessons of life: never try to regain the past, the fire will have become ashes.

A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.

Adjusting to Beau being a caveman over a girl had been almost as hard as seeing him with Ash. Beau didn’t do jealous, not until Ashton had become his. Now he was a freaking lunatic.

Warriors have emerged from the ashes of trials and sacrifices.

We rise from ashes; too damaged to be touched. yet, strong enough to rebuild kingdoms.