All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza-nor that of the women's chorus; it is nearer and farther than they.

How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed!

Oh, to be alive in such an age, when miracles are everywhere, and every inch of common air throbs a tremendous prophecy, of greater marvels yet to be.

Have you not learned the most in your life from those with whom you disagreed - those who saw it differently from you?

Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.