Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and building a wall.

A definite purpose, like blinders on a horse, inevitably narrows its possessor's point of view.

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.

No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.

The ear is the only true writer and the only true reader.

The first thing I do in any town I come to is ask if it has a bookstore.