I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.

Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought - asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.

In dreams begins responsibility.

But I, being poor, have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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

Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.

Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

You know what the Englishman's idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no God. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two statements.

The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.