Victory is not won in miles but in inches.

For one who reads, there is no limit to the number of lives that may be lived, for fiction, biography, and history offer an inexhaustible number of lives in many parts of the world, in all periods of time.

This-this was what made life: a moment of quiet, the water falling in the fountain, the girl's voice. . . a moment of captured beauty. Those who are truly wise will never permit such moments to escape.

To exist is to adapt, and if one could not adapt, one died and made room for those who could.

To die is nothing. One is here, one is no longer here. It is only at the end one must be able to say 'I was a man'.

I wonder why it is the man who pleads for mercy never gives it.

No man is lost while he yet lives.