Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.They come through you but not from you.And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts.For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you,For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows might go swift and far.Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;For even as He loves the arrow that flies,so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you. Matthew

Bible

The mountains are calling and I must go.

John Muir

It was no great tragedy being Judy Garland's daughter. I had tremendously interesting childhood years -- except they had little to do with being a child.

Liza Minnelli

I played sports in high school and in college.

Jon Bernthal

I'm a feminist, but I think that romance has been taken away a bit for my generation. I think what people connect with in novels is this idea of an overpowering, encompassing love - and it being more important and special than anything and everything else.

Emma Watson

Pride is the master sin of the devil, and the devil is the father of lies.

Edwin Hubbell Chapin

Should you revisit us Stay a little longer And get to know the place... On local life we trust The resident witness Not the royal tourist.

Kingsley Amis

It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.

Leo Tolstoy

Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition.

Jacques Barzun

As she came up to the arch Elizabeth saw with a start that it was written on. She went closer. She peered at the stone. There were names on it. Every grain of the surface had been carved with British names; their chiselled capitals rose from the level of her ankles to the height of the great arch itself; on every surface of every column as far as her eyes eyes could see there were names teeming, reeling, over surfaces of yards, of hundreds of yards, over furlongs of stone.She moved through the space beneath the arch where the man was sweeping. She found the other pillas identically marked, their faces obliterated on all sides by the names that were carved on them.'Who are these, these ...?; She gestured with her hand.''These?' The man with the brush sounded surprised. 'The lost.''Men who died in battle?''No. The lost, the ones they did not find. The others are in cemetries.''These are just the ... unfound?'She looked at the vault above her head and then around in panic at the endless writing, as though the surface of the sky had been papered in footnotes.When she could speak again, she said, 'from the whole war?'The man shook his head. 'Just these fields.' He gestured with his arm.Elizabeth went and sat on the steps on the other side of the monument. Beneath her was a formal garden with some rows of white headstones, each with a tended plant or flower at its base, each cleaned and beautiful in the weak winter sunlight.'Nobody told me.' She ran her fingers with their red-painted nails back through her thick dark hair. 'My God, nobody told me.

Sebastian Faulks, 'Birdsong' p.

I think there's too much emphasis on beauty. I find it so limiting. I think just be yourself. Be who you are.

Molly Shannon

The ability to discipline yourself to delay gratification in the short term in order to enjoy greater rewards in the long term, is the indispensable prerequisite for success.

Brian Tracy