I hear the wind blowing across the desert and I see the moons of a winter night rising like great ships in the void. To them I make my vow: I will be resolute and make an art of government; I will balance my inherited past and become a perfect storehouse of my relic memories. And I will be known for kindliness more than for knowledge. My face will shine down the corridors of time for as long as humans exist.

A man's flesh is his own; the water belongs to the tribe.

You do not take from this universe. It grants you what it will.

Balance is what distinguishs a people from a mob.

All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible. Such people have a tendency to become drunk on violence, a condition to which they are quickly addicted.

Growth is limited by that necessity which is present in the least amount.

The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience.