Where one door closes, another opens.

Highly important in poetry is Rhythm, but the word means merely 'flow,' so that rhythm belongs to prose as well as to poetry. Good rhythm is merely a pleasing succession of sounds. Meter, the distinguishing formal mark of poetry and all verse, is merely rhythm which is regular in certainfundamental respects, roughly speaking is rhythm in which the recurrence of stressed syllables or of feet with definite time-values is regular. There is no proper connection either in spelling or in meaning between rhythm and rime (which is generally misspelled 'rhyme'). The adjective derived from'rhythm' is 'rhythmical'; there is no adjective from 'rime' except 'rimed.' The word 'verse' in its general sense includes all writing in meter. Poetry is that verse which has real literary merit.

Robert Huntington Fletcher, A Hi

Lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have.

Arthur E. Morgan

The Eternal looked upon me for a moment with His eye of power, and annihilated me in His being, and become manifest to me in His essence. I saw I existed through Him.

Rumi

It is only with true love and compassion that we can begin to mend what is broken in the world. It is only these two blessed things that can begin to heal all the broken hearts.

Steve Maraboli

The blessing of an active mind, when it is in a good condition, is, that it not only employ itself, but is almost sure to be the means of giving wholesome employment to others.

Source Unknown

Challenging the integrity of the non-proliferation regime is a matter which can affect international peace and security.

Mohamed ElBaradei

Law is made by the winner to preserve victory over the loser.

Toba Beta

I don't think I'm a great songwriter, but I think I've learned a lot about it, and I don't think there's any one way to do it. I don't think I can control it at all. I can just kind of hope that it happens.

Norah Jones

One feels even in the midst of the traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment in June.

Virginia Woolf

Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.

John Gay

Music fathoms the sky.

Charles Baudelaire

A quitter never wins and a winner never quits

Napoleon Hill