“The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.”

Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.

All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.

Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.

And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.

Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.

We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.

Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.

I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.

Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.

All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.

Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.

It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink. Oh, it could be so nice to grow old with you, I wanna grow old with you.

I woke up this morning and for once, I had no desire to drink my morning coffee. Is that how it felt for you to wake up and never return?

If I start going back to church, I’d have to stop the smoking and drinking, and I wouldn’t be able to curse any more.

I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.

Sometimes I think that Jesus watches my neurotic struggles, and shakes his head and grips his forehead and starts tossing back mojitos.

A wise person once wrote, “Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person would die.” But the only one dying is ourselves.

I only want to drink your cream.

When you drink me the flavor that you swallow will be the taste of my soul.