We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.

The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?

Do not be afraid of the past. If people tell you that it is irrevocable, do not believe them.

America is the noisiest country that ever existed. One is waked up in the morning, not by the singing of the nightingale, but by the steam whistle.

Most men and women are forced to perform parts for which they have no qualification.

Behind the perfection of a man's style, must lie the passion of a man's soul.

Progress is the realization of utopia.