I stood there in the whirling summer,
My hand capped a withered heart,
And thought of China and of Greece,
Of Alexander in his tent;
Of Montaigne in his tower,
Of Saint Theresa in her wild lament.

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.