If a thief helps a poor man out of the spoils of his thieving, we must not call that charity.

Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people

From there we came outside and saw the stars

Do not be afraid; our fate Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.

Thy soul is by vile fear assailed, which oft so overcasts a man, that he recoils from noblest resolution, like a beast at some false semblance in the twilight gloom.

I love to doubt as well as know.

The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and likewise pain.