A man perfects himself by working.
A thought once awakened does not again slumber.
When Pococke inquired of Grotius, where the proof was of that story of the pigeon, trained to pick peas from Mahomet's (Muhammad's) ear, and pass for an angel dictating to him? Grotius answered that there was no proof!
Poetry is the attempt which man makes to render his existence harmonious.
In idleness there is a perpetual despair.
I don't pretend to understand the Universe - it's a great deal bigger than I am.