A pine tree standeth lonely In the North on an upland bare; It standeth whitely shrouded With snow, and sleepeth there. It dreameth of a Palm tree Which far in the East alone, In the mournful silence standeth On its ridge of burning stone.
There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.
A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.
Every woman is the gift of a world to me.
The men of the past had convictions, while we moderns have only opinions.
Christ rode on an ass, but now asses ride on Christ.