In my defense I have only silence$$$ dew on the grass$$$ a nightingale among the branches. You forgive it$$$its long tenure in the leaves of one aspen after another$$$ drops of eternity$$$ grams of amazement$$$ and the sleepy complaints of the poor poets.

What hurts the soul <br>My soul adores

Is it not certain that the Creator yawns in earthquake and thunder and other popular displays$$$ but toils in rounding the delicate spiral of a shell?

Man can embody the truth but he cannot know it.

I hate journalists. There is nothing in them but tittering jeering emptiness. They have all made what Dante calls the Great Refusal. The shallowest people on the ridge of the earth.

One loses$$$ as one grows older$$$ something of the lightness of one's dreams; one begins to take life up in both hands$$$ and to care more for the fruit than the flower$$$ and that is no great loss perhaps.

Your leader is only one man$$$ I heard my voice say. His strength is no more supernatural than your own$$$ nor is his virtue$$$ and by himself he could never preserve the good things that belong by right to everyone. To govern well$$$ he must have your help$$$ the help of his true$$$ trustworthy friends. You must forever be worthy of his trust$$$ and you must raise up true friends of your own$$$ to help you carry your own burdens. And it is love that must bind all of us together.

The man who doesn't know his own ability is ignorant of himself.

Youth is not an age thing. It's a quality. Once you've had it$$$ you never lose it.

We not only wish to be pleased$$$ but to be pleased in that particular way in which we have been accustomed to be pleased.