Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err! You never reach any truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and fourteen.
Solitude is sometimes the best society.
[Rhyme is] but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meter;. . . Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme,. . . as have also long since our best English tragedies, as. . . trivial and of no true musical delight; which [truly] consists only in apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry and all good oratory.
In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.
All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
I was of the opinion that the past is past, and like all that is not now it should remain buried along the side of our memories.
But what is life if you don't live it?
When you have a bunch of scripts that you have to read, the less you have, the better it is, because otherwise, everything is already planned and I think that's a terrible feeling.
When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear.