Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister

Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.

I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse -- borne away with every breath!

Ancient of days! august Athena! where, Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were; First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and pass'd away--Is this the whole?

There are four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.

Happiness was born a twin.

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.