Our life is a book to which we add daily, until suddenly we are finished, and then the manuscript is burned.

Times have changed since a certain author was executed for murdering his publisher. They say that when the author was on the scaffold he said good-bye to the minister and to the reporters, and then he saw some publishers sitting in the front row below, and to them he did not say good-bye. He said instead, "I'll see you again."

You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.

Oh the gladness of their gladness when they're glad, And the sadness of their sadness when they're sad; But the gladness of their gladness, and the sadness of their sadness, Are as nothing to their badness when they're bad

She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.

For when you looked into my mother's eyes you knew, as if He had told you, why God sent her into the world - it was to open then minds of all who looked to beautiful thoughts. And that is the beginning and end of literature.

The best place a person can die, is where they die for others.