“Books. Cats. Life is good.”

I have measured out my life in coffee spoons.

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.

Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter.

To do the useful thing, to say the courageous thing, to contemplate the beautiful thing: that is enough for one man’s life.

There’s no vocabulary For love within a family, love that’s lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.

Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.

Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended

I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.

No one can become really educated without having pursued some study in which he took no interest- for it is a part of education to learn to interest ourselves in subjects for which we have no aptitude.

The visible reminder of Invisible Light.

We don’t actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.

People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.

We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.

Success is relative. It is what we make of the mess we have made of things.

Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Books are a friend, books are an escape, books are a means to empowerment and books are a means to understanding yourself better and in a world around you. They are everything.

The ability to read awoke inside of me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.

What a book a devil’s chaplain might write on the clumsy, wasteful, blundering, low, and horribly cruel work of nature!

Just give me a comfortable couch, a dog, a good book, and a woman.

Words are the physicians of a mind diseased.

I don’t think I’ve ever read poetry, ever. I’m not really book smart.

Read 500 pages every day. That’s how knowledge works. It builds up like compound interest.

Find someone who has a life that you want and figure out how they got it. Read books, pick your role models wisely. Find out what they did and do it.