From too much love of living From hope and fear set free We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever That dead men rise up never That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere.
The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.
Justice and truth are too such subtle points that our tools are too blunt to...
One must know oneself. If this does not serve to discover truth it at least...
Two obsessions are the hallmarks of Nature's artistic style.
Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not...
Praise the green earth. Chance has appointed her...
