“No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.”

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar Trample the soft blossoms of fine grass.

When anger spreads through the breath, guard thy tongue from barking idly.

Whatever one loves most is beautiful.

For some the fairest thing on the dark earth is Thermopylae, And the Spartan phalanx lowering lances to die.

All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long.

Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.

If you are squeamish Don’t prod the beach rubble.

I do not know what to do, my mind’s in two.

I will let my body flow like water over the gentle cushions.

Death is an ill; ’tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.

The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.

Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.

The present will not long endure.

We know we can’t be spiritually transformed by just focusing on the will.

I personally am not a team player in that manner.

That’s the illusion – the idea that you can be all right on the inside and not act it out – and it has affected us in many ways. That’s a part of the idea that professing is enough.

Probably I’m more of a fan of the literary references than the pop-culture references. But I do go to the pop-culture well quite frequently because people, I think, are sort of inherently ready to laugh at that. It’s a free laugh almost. Usually, everybody gets it.

If there are one hundred thousand damned souls for one saved soul, the devil has always the advantage without having given up his son to death.

Such words as ‘God’ and ‘Death’ and ‘Suffering’ and ‘Eternity’ are best forgotten. We have to become as simple and as wordless as the growing corn or the falling rain. We must just be.

A great nose may be an index Of a great soul.