A large, still book is a piece of quietness, succulent and nourishing in a noisy world, which I approach and imbibe with a sort of greedy enjoyment, as Marcel Proust said of those rooms of his old home whose air was saturated with the bouquet of silence. |
A mother never realizes that her children are no longer children. |
As soon as an idea is accepted it is time to reject it |
Beware of your habits. The better they are the more surely they will be your undoing. |
Beware of your habits. The better they are the more surely they will be your undoing. |
Genius is initiative on fire. |
Intuition is reason in a hurry. |
Man is a dog's idea of what God should be |
No man is ever old enough to know better. |
No one is ever old enough to know better |
Only one-fourth of the sorrow in each man's life is caused by outside uncontrollable elements, the rest is self-imposed by failing to analyze and act with calmness. |
Patience has its limits, take it too far and it's cowardice. |
Pedantry is the dotage of knowledge |
Suffer fools gladly; they may be right. |
The end of reading is not more books but more life. |