Music is split up now into little pockets.
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
Ah, yet, e'er I descend to th' grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true, Both wise, and both delightful too. And since Love ne'er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as Guardian angels are, Only belov'd and loving me.
But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders.
Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
Believing that navel-gazing in and of itself can transform itself into something that means something for society. I mean, we are communicative creatures. We desire to sort of understand each other's experiences and points of view. Storytelling is what painting, literature, filmmaking is all about.
Don't cry out loud, keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud, and if you should fall, remember you almost had it all.
A vital part of the happiness formula is self-discipline. Whoever conquers himself knows deep happiness that fills the heart with joy.
I have decided to keep a record of my inmost real-self thoughts. Perhaps it will help me to find out what I really am like: horrid, I know: selfish, conceited, and material-minded. For instance, lately whenever I've tried to concentrate on anything serious or beautiful, I've started thinking about the Spencers' dance next week. I am ashamed of my pettiness. I'm going to try to do better this year--develop my character more and not always be thinking about enjoying myself. I've always been so happy, I dread disappointment and unhappiness, but they would be good for me. But I don't want them.