You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, (For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind! How keen you are!) To find a friend who has these qualities, Who has, and gives Those qualities upon which friendship lives. How much it means that I say this to you- Without these friendships-life, what cauchemar!

Mediocre writers borrow; great writers steal.

They don't understand what it is to be awake, / To be living on several planes at once / Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.

At the still point, there the dance is.

Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended

The historical sense involves a perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its presence

A good half of the effort of understanding what the Indian philosophers were after - and their subtleties make most of the great European philosophers look like schoolboys.