A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation.

I give you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball, It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.

I am going to that country which I have all my life wished to see.

Why stand we here trembling around, calling on God for help, and not ourselves, in whom God dwells?

O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.

You've always had the power right there in your shoes, you just had to learn it for yourself.

Nature has no outline. Imagination has.