There is nothing that stirs in the whole world of thought to which sorrow does not vibrate in terrible and exquisite pulsation.

Every thing to be true must become a religion.

I am sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays. You can't go anywhere without meeting clever people. The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a few fools left. ALGERNON: We have. JACK: I should extremely like to meet them. What do they talk about? ALGERNON: The fools? Oh! about the clever people of course. JACK: What fools.

The final mystery is oneself.

Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead?

Create yourself. Be yourself your poem.

Anybody can be good in the country. There are no temptations there.