Who then is free? The wise who can command his passions, who fears not want, nor death, nor chains, firmly resisting his appetites and despising the honors of the world, who relies wholly on himself, whose angular points of character have all been ro

All great things are only a number of small things that have carefully been collected together.

Source Unknown

Do not reveal, if liberty is precious to you; my face is the prison of love.

Leonardo da Vinci

Nature has perfection, in order to show that she is the image of God and defects, to show that she is only his image.

Blaise Pascal

He was gifted with the sly, sharp instinct for self-preservation that passes for wisdom among the rich.

Evelyn Waugh

One of the key problems today is that politics is such a disgrace, good people don't go into government.

Donald Trump

Large offers and sturdy rejections are among the most common topics of falsehood

Samuel Johnson

People who create 20% of the results will begin believing they deserve 80% of the rewards.

Pat Riley

Religion is doing; a man does not merely think his religion or feel it, he lives his religion as much as he is able, otherwise it is not religion but fantasy or philosophy.

George Gurdjieff

People wrestle sometimes making movies, and I think that conflict is a very essential thing. I think a lot of very happy productions have produced a lot of very banal movies.

Edward Norton

I probably have a 20,000-word vocabulary. I'll match my wits with anyone on literature, science and the arts.

Mike Tyson

All this pitting of sex against sex, of quality against quality; all this claiming of superiority and imputing of inferiority, belong to the private-school stage of human existence where there are sides and it is necessary for one side to beat another side, and of the utmost importance to walk up to a platform and receive from the hands of the Headmaster a highly ornamental pot. As people mature, they cease to believe in sides or in Headmasters or in highly ornamental pots.

Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's

Perhaps the wind Wails so in winter for the summers dead, And all sad sounds are nature's funeral cries For what has been and is not.

George Eliot