Proper names are poetry in the raw. Like all poetry they are untranslatable.

Temperance is simply a disposition of the mind which binds the passion.

Thomas Aquinas

The demand to be loved is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions.

Friedrich Nietzsche

The idea of being famous is a lot better than the reality.

Tom Felton

Football management is such a pressurised thing - horseracing is a release. I'm also learning to play the piano - I'm quite determined - it's another release from the pressure of my job.

Alex Ferguson

I recently turned fifty, which is young for a tree, mid-life for an elephant, and ancient for a quarter-miler whose son now says,

Bill Cosby

He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.

Walt Whitman

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest.

Alexander Pope

There are people out there who are older who are cool. I want that.

Billy Corgan

What infinite heart's-easeMust kings neglect, that private men enjoy!And what have kings, that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony?And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st moreOf mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?O ceremony, show me but thy worth!What is thy soul of adoration?Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,Creating awe and fear in other men?Wherein thou art less happy being fear'dThan they in fearing.What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!Think'st thou the fiery fever will go outWith titles blown from adulation?Will it give place to flexure and low bending?Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;I am a king that find thee, and I know'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,The farced title running 'fore the king,The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pompThat beats upon the high shore of this world,No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,Not all these, laid in bed majestical,Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,Who with a body fill'd and vacant mindGets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,But, like a lackey, from the rise to setSweats in the eye of Phoebus and all nightSleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,And follows so the ever-running year,With profitable labour, to his grave:And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.The slave, a member of the country's peace,Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wotsWhat watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

William Shakespeare

Vivisection is a social evil because if it advances human knowledge, it does so at the expense of human character.

George Bernard Shaw

Actually, I majored in marketing and I have a bachelor of science.

Wanda Sykes

Everything is a learning lesson, good and bad, so I am happy with the way things are, and I learned from everything negative. I am in a great space now, so I wouldn't change a thing!

Karen Civil