“Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.”

Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.

The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

As therefore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of good and evil?

Solitude sometimes is best society.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n.

Hell has no benefits, only torture.

Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.

All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.

Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.

Gratitude bestows reverence…..changing forever how we experience life and the world.

Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.

God made thee perfect, not immutable.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.

This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.

And sometimes places can be hard to say goodbye too than people.

It’s hard when all you want is the sky, chasing after the hues of pinks and blues, feeling that for once you’ve got a grip on clouds that swoosh through storms of your own. But it’s worse when you ask for the sun and receiving the soil stuck to your feet.

No matter how hard these waves crash they will not break me.

Crying so hard, I can’t hardly breathe.

Hard crash everything good has to end take your fucking Prozac.

You ask me questions that you don’t want to know the answer to.

You are so lovable but so hard to love.