Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Defeat, my defeat, my deathless courage, You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, and we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous

And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that your should seek with him hours to kill? Seek with him always hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship, let there be laughter, and the sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

As the strings of a lute are apart though they quiver the same music.

Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it.

Science and religion are in full accord, but science and faith are in complete discord.