I've been told to keep my remarks relatively brief. I understand Quayle-hunting season begins at noon.
The imagination is of so delicate a texture that even words wound it.
A gentle word, a kind look, a good-natured smile can work wonders and accomplish miracles.
Those who are at war with others are not at peace with themselves.
I'm not smart, but I like to observe. Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why.
The more we do, the more we can do; the more busy we are, the more leisure we have.
The art of life is to know how to enjoy a little and to endure very much.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!
A lot of people don't feel like doing very much. Or one project is really all they can do at one time. I can have five or six things going at the same time. It doesn't bother me or tire me, but sometimes it does rattle me.
The sanguine assurance that men and nations can be legislated into goodness, that pressure from without is equivalent to a moral change within, needs a strong backing of inexperience.