Never trust the man who tells you all his troubles but keeps from you all his joys.
Every man goes down to his death bearing in his hands only that which he has given away.
In a fight the rich man tries to save his face, the poor man his coat.
Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength.
He sharpened his flaws and disappointments into daggers.
A man's mother is his misfortune, but his wife is his fault.
Ignorance is king. Many would not profit by his abdication. Many enrich themselves by means of his dark monarchy. They are his Court, and in his name they defraud and govern, enrich themselves and perpetuate their power.
I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.
Although he never speaks of how or what or why, I know that his childhood was difficult, that his parents broke his heart. Books and excess poundage are his insulation against pain.
A true leader does not derive power from his position, but from his ethics, from people’s love for him, and from his knowledge, education and excellence in his field of work.
His face looked almost as gray as his suit, and the pouches beneath his eyes looked like little bags for holding all the sadness that his head couldn't hold.
It's because when God adopts you into His family, you belong to Him. He stamps His name on you. A name that comes with His protection. And His birthright, which is eternity and the power to live with joy on this earth.
No man is equal to his book. All the best products of his mental activity go into his book, where they come separated from the mass of inferior products with which they are mingled in his daily talk.
Which do you hate more: breaking your word or dying?" "I don't know. I've never done either.
Here we raise his children for him, cook for him, bring up his crops, butcher his hogs - even fight his wars for him - and he still won't acknowledge our existence.
She touched him everywhere she could reach. The rounded hardness of his biceps and chest, the ripped contours of his back, his thick, damp hair, until touching with his hands wasn't enough.
God, in his wisdom, sent us his angels, to whisper our names on the wind. God, in his anger, released his devils, to pester our souls to the end.
When he remembered, his indrawn breath pulled her scent into his mouth, coating his tongue with her taste. He swallowed that delicious flavor as his heartbeat sped.
He wiped the sweat from his face on his sleeve, squared his shoulders, and strode back into the fray. All there was to do was his duty.
My son had his eighth birthday recently and we had a chance to borrow the film and show it to all of his friends that was at his birthday party and they loved it. I was a little nervous. I said they might not even like it, and say his daddy's movie i...
How did they know that I was the one who saved them?" "They don't. You're the third knight they've celebrated over since it happened.
