If we are not empty, we become a block of matter. We cannot breathe, we cannot think. To be empty means to be alive, to breathe in and to breathe out. We cannot be alive if we are not empty. Emptiness is impermanence, it is change. We should not complain about impermanence, because without impermanence, nothing is possible.

In times of universal deceit, telling the truth will be a revolutionary act.

George Orwell

I hated science in high school. Technology? Engineering? Math? Why would I ever need this? Little did I realize that music was also about science, technology, engineering and mathematics, all rolled into one.

Mickey Hart

Make progress one time and it makes you happy. Make progress day after day, week after week and it makes you a champion.

Greg Werner

I believe in the imagination. What I cannot see is infinitely more important than what I can see.

Duane Michals

I came in contact with every known Indian anarchist in London. Their bravery impressed me, but I felt that their zeal was misguided. I felt that violence was no remedy for India's ills, and that her civilisation required the use of a different and higher weapon for self-protection.

Mahatma Gandhi

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

Alexander Pope

Nobody

Eckhart Tolle

I work six months and get three or four with the family. I've stopped racing to get to the red light.

Kyle Chandler

Fortunate are those who take the first steps.

Paulo Coelho

...The wife, soon to be a mother, could hardly catch her breath in the heavy, choking dust, for even in the pure air she breathed hard from her burden. Each jolt of the wagon, for those ahead had made wagon ruts almost 'ex' deep, wrung from her clenched lips a half-groan that she did her best to keep from the anxious, solicitous husband plodding slowly along, guiding and goading the poor dumb cattle, themselves weary from the long trek. So through the long day of jolting and discomfort and sometimes pain, sometimes panting for breath, the mother, anxious only that the unborn babe should not be injured, rode, for she could not walk; and the children walked, for the load was too heavy and big for them to ride; and the father walked sturdily alongside and prayed....Then the morning came when from out that last wagon floated the cry of the newborn babe, and mother love made a shrine, and Father bowed in reverence before it. But the train must move on. So out into the dust and dirt the last wagon moved again, swaying and jolting, while Mother eased as best she could each pain-giving jolt so no harm might be done her, that she might be strong to feed the little one, bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh. Who will dare to say that angels did not cluster round and guard her and ease her rude bed, for she had given another choice spirit its mortal body that it might work out its God-given destiny?

J. (Joshua) Reuben Clark, Jr., T

Time has a wonderful way of weeding out the trivial.

Richard Ben Sapir

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning