I wept in my dreams. I dreamed you lay in the grave; I awoke, and the tears still poured down my cheeks. I wept in my dreams, I dreamed you had left me; I awoke and I went on weeping long and bitterly. I wept in my dreams, I dreamed you were still kind to me; I awoke, and still the flow of my tears streams on.

There is only one writer in whom I find something that reminds me of the directness of style which is found in the Bible. It is Shakespeare.

Poverty sits by the cradle of all our great men and rocks all of them to manhood.

The sea appears all golden. Beneath the sun-lit sky.

Silence is the essential condition of happiness.

He who fights with priests may make up his mind to have his poor good name torn and befouled by the most infamous lies and the most cutting slanders.

You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.