You may strive to be like them but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

If indeed you must be candid, be candid beautifully.

The poet is a bird of strange moods. He descends from his lofty domain to tarry among us, singing; if we do not honor him he will unfold his wings and fly back to his dwelling place.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

For a love to grow through the test of everyday living, one must respect that zone of privacy where one retires to relate to the inside instead of the outside.

A word I want to see written on my grave: I am alive like you, and I am standing beside you. Close your eyes and look around, you will see me in front of you.

Love is life sharing, not for hurt, Love is alive both not ambiguous. Love is whole life, not an affair.