“Don’t bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality.”

“Beginnings are usually scary, and endings are usually sad, but its everything in between that makes it all worth living.”

“And what has been hidden from the wise and the prudent been revealed in the mouth of the toddlers” –Forever Loving Jah, from the album Uprising (1980)

“Truth is the light.”

“None but ourselves can free our minds.”

“None but ourselves can free our minds.”

“Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you riding through the ruts, don’t complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don’t bury your thoughts.”

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

“Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say ‘infinitely’ when you mean ‘very’; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.”

The wisest word man reaches is the humblest he can speak.

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

“Think and wonder, wonder and think.”

“Simple it’s not, I am afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.”

“How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”

I wish I had never been born--there or anywhere else.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.

Ours is an excessively conscious age. We know so much, we feel so little.

The novel is the highest form of human expression so far attained. Why? Because it is so incapable of the absolute.

Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.