The union of the Word and the Mind produces that mystery which is called Life...Learn deeply of the Mind and its mystery, for therein lies the secret of immortality. The Divine Pymander on immortality
I Thy God am the Light and the Mind which were before substance was divided from Spirit and darkness from Light. The Divine Pymander on religion
Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go. E.L. Doctorow on exploration
Love built on beauty, soon as beauty dies. John Donne on beauty
No man is an Island, entire of it self; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as ifa promitory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. John Donne on individuality
Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies. John Donne on love
Love is agrowing, to full constant light; and his first minute, after noon, is night. John Donne on love
O, if thou car'st not whom I love alas, thou lov'st not me. John Donne on love
Who soweth good seed shall surely reap; The year grows rich as it groweth old, And life's latest sands are its sands of gold! Julia Ripley Dorr on age
If you become a success, you don't change everyone else does. Kirk Douglas on success
What is all wisdom save a collection of platitudes? Norman Douglas on wisdom
I study myself more than any other subject; it is my metaphysic, and my physic. William Drummond on study
Accurst ambition, how dearly I have bought you. John Dryden on ambition
A knock-down argument; 'tis but a word and a blow. John Dryden on argument
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun. John Dryden on beauty
Honor is but an empty bubble. John Dryden on honor
Love is a passion which kindles honor into noble acts. John Dryden on passion
Beware the fury of a patient man. John Dryden on patience
Dancing is the poetry of the feet. John Dryden on poetry
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell. John Dryden on speech