“The world is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.”

Each has his own tree of ancestors, but at the top of all sits Probably Arboreal.

So long as we love, we serve; so long as we are loved by others.

You could read Kant by yourself, if you wanted; but you must share a joke with some one else.

I should say that we are almost indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.

Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a poor substitute for life.

The web, then, or the pattern, a web at once sensuous and logical.

In marriage, a man becomes slack and selfish, and undergoes a fatty degeneration of his moral being.

You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?

The Devil, can sometimes do a very gentlemanly thing.

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us.

That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much.

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.

To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.

Mankind was never so happily inspired as when it made a cathedral.

The price we have to pay for money is sometimes liberty.

I think tattoos are horrible. It’s like living in a Pucci dress full-time.

In the full light of day, I don’t want to think about the sunset.

Human beings the world over need freedom and security that they may be able to realize their full potential.

That the machine of Heaven is not a hard and impervious body full of various real spheres, as up to now has been believed by most people.

The basic work of health professionals in general, and of psychotherapist s in particular, is to become full human beings and to inspire full human-beingness in other people who feel starved about their lives.

Toyin Falola has given us what is truly rare in modern African writing: a seriously funny, racy, irreverent package of memories, and full of the most wonderful pieces of poetry and ordinary information.

How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men–even if there are monsters in it.

Life is full of excuses to feel pain, excuses not to live, excuses, excuses, excuses.