I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers at their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever knows. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.

You know, you can't please all the people all the time... and last night, all those people were at my show.

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday.

It's so much easier to suggest solutions when you don't know too much about the problem.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

When I was young the world was fair
And amiable and sunny.
A brightness was in all the air,
In all the waters, honey.
The jokes were fine and funny,
The statesmen honest in their views,
And in their lives, as well,
And when you heard a bit of news
'Twas true enough to tell.
Men were not ranting, shouting, reeking,
Nor women "generally speaking."

The Summer then was long indeed:
It lasted one whole season!
The sparkling Winter gave no heed
When ordered by Unreason
To bring the early peas on.
Now, where the dickens is the sense
In calling that a year
Which does no more than just commence
Before the end is near?
When I was young the year extended
From month to month until it ended.

I know not why the world has changed
To something dark and dreary,
And everything is now arranged
To make a fellow weary.
The Weather Man -- I fear he
Has much to do with it, for, sure,
The air is not the same:
It chokes you when it is impure,
When pure it makes you lame.
With windows closed you are asthmatic;
Open, neuralgic or sciatic.

Einstein said God doesn't play dice with the universe, but I don't know — maybe not as a whole, but I think he gets a pretty big kick out of messing in peoples' back yards.

Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying is true.

To live creatively free, do what you know how to do now, then ‘act as if’ you know how to do the rest.

No painter's brush, nor poet's pen
In justice to her fame
Has ever reached half high enough
To write a mother's name.

If I was damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o' mine, O mother o'mine.

The most original of authors are not so because they advance what is new, but more because they know how to say something as if it had never been said before.

If all you focus on is money you will have a hard time getting any. Focusing on the money only is like focusing on the apple, but forgetting the seed. The seed of TRUE abundance is not money, but doing what you love. Love is the strongest energy in the Universe and if you step away from the life that you know and begin to step towards a life of doing what you love, you will be planting very powerful seeds. After enough time and care the seeds you plant will begin to blossom and bare amazing fruit. Money and many other forms of abundance will literally chase you. Focus on what makes you happy, take risks in that direction and don't let anyone tell you it isn't possible. Look to those who inspire you and ask yourself what would they do? These folks know about true abundance, take note.

When you talk, you repeat what you already know; when you listen, you often learn something.

Follow you heart and intuition. They somehoiw already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

There's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.

Only the shallow know themselves.

Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.

A man is who knows to marry a woman and buy a horse.