You must learn to forgive a man when he’s in love. He’s always a nuisance.
Buy a pup and your money will buyLove unflinching that cannot lie.
I never made a mistake in my life; at least, never one that I couldn’t explain away afterwards.
There is sorrow enough in the natural wayFrom men and woman to fill our day;But when we are certain of sorrow in store,Why do we always arrange for more?Brothers & Sisters, I bid you bewareOf giving your heart to a dog to tear.
I have joyfully done much evil in my life to those who have wished me evil (General Maximus)
What is a woman that you forsake herAnd the hearth fire and the home acreTo go with that old grey widow-maker?
We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.
Body and spirit, I surrendered whole, To harsh Instructors- and received a soul.
I always prefer to believe the best of everybody it saves so much trouble
Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.
There is no gift like friendship. Remember this – when you become a young man. For your fate will turn on the first true friend you make.
There is but one task for all –One life for each to give.What stands if Freedom
A woman’s guess is much more accurate than a man’s certainty.
I had come down here, not to serve God as a craftsman should, but to show my people how great a craftsman I was. They cared not.
If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.
We’re all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.
Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ and sitting in the shade.
All kinds of magic are out of date and done away with, except in India, where nothing changes in spite of the shiny, top-scum stuff that people call ‘civilization.
And he grew and grew strong as a boy must grow who does not know that he is learning any lessons, and who has nothing in the world to think of except things to eat” (23).
Fiction is Truth’s elder sister. Obviously. No one in the world knew what truth was till some one had told a story.
Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.
It is not any common earth,Water or wood or air,But Merlin’s Isle of GramaryeThat you and I will fare.
All good people agree, And all good people say,All nice people, like Us, are We And every one else is They:But if you cross over the sea, Instead of over the way,You may end by (think of it!) looking on We As only a sort of They!
If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;!
His line was the jocundly-sentimental Wardour Street brand of adventure, told in a style that exactly met, but never exceeded, every expectation.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth,We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung,And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.God help us, for we knew the worst too young!from “Gentleman Rankers
I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.
Yet there be certain times in a young man’s life, when, through great sorrow or sin, all the boy in him is burnt and seared away so that he passes at one step to the more sorrowful state of manhood
I have my own matches and sulphur, and I’ll make my own hell.
You may kill for yourselves, and your mates,and your cubs as they need, and you can;But kill not for pleasure of killing, andSEVEN TIMES NEVER KILL MAN.
Like everything else in the world, it is one man’s work.
These are the four that are never content: that have never been filled since the dew began-Jacala’s mouth, and the glut of the kite, and the hands of the ape, and the eyes of Man.
Holden went to his bungalow and began to understand that he was not alone in the world, and also that he was afraid for the sake of another, — which is the most soul-satisfying fear known to man.
One man in a thousand, Solomon says.Will stick more close than a brother.And it’s worth while seeking him half your daysIf you find him before the other.—The Thousandth Man
O it’s Tommy this, and Tommy that, and Tommy ‘ow’s your soul/But it’s thin red line of heroes when the drums begin to roll.
Barbarians are all alike… sit up half the night to discuss anything a Roman says.
Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges — Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!
A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.
Whatever he knows of his weaknesses, Private Mulvaney is wholly ignorant of his strength.
I always try to believe the best of everybody -it saves so much trouble.
One can’t prescribe books, even the best books, to people unless one knows a good deal about each individual person.
There was a small boy of Quebec Who was buried in snow to the neck: When they said ‘Are you friz?’ He replied ‘Yes I is – But we don’t call this cold in Quebec!’
If you hit a pony over the nose at the outset of your acquaintance he may not love you but he will take a deep interest in your movements ever afterwards.
What should they know of England who only England know?
For the colonel’s lady an’ Judy O’Grady Are sisters under their skins.
We have forty million reasons for failure but not a single excuse.
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice – An humble and a contrite heart.
Take up the white man’s burden – Send forth the best ye breed – Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need.
Sing for faith and hope are high – None so true as you and I – Sing the Lovers’ Litany: “Love like ours can never die!”
Though I’ve belted you and flayed you By the livin’ Gawd that made you You’re a better man than I am Gunga Din.
Make ye no truce with Adam-zad – the Bear that walks like a man.
If I were hanged on the highest hill Mother o’ mine O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still Mother o’ mine O mother o’ mine!
I keep six honest serving-men they taught me all I know their names are What and Why and When and How and Where and Who
There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays and every single one of them is right.
Nations have passed away and left no traces And history gives the naked cause of it – One single simple reason in all cases They fell because their peoples were not fit.
The sin they do by two and two they must pay for one by one.
All the people like us are We And everyone else is They.
For it’s Tommy this an’ Tommy that and “Chuck ‘im out the brute.” But it’s “Savior of ‘is country ” when the guns begin to shoot.
Fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run.
A woman is only a woman but a good cigar is a smoke.
Down to Gehenna or up to the throne He travels the fastest who travels alone.
A woman’s guess is much more accurate than a man’s certainty.
The colonel’s lady and Judy O’Grady Are sisters under their skins.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
A fool there was and he made his prayer (Even as you and I!) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair (We called her the woman who did not care) But the fool he called her his lady fair – (Even as you or I!)
I keep six honest serving men. (They taught me all I know) Their names are What and Why and When and How and Where and Who.
Borrow trouble for yourself, if that’s your nature, but don’t lend it to your neighbours.
All the people like us are we, and everyone else is They.
When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.
I always prefer to believe the best of everybody, it saves so much trouble.
The first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it.
Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.
San Francisco is a mad city – inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people whose women are of a remarkable beauty.
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves ‘It’s pretty, but is it Art?’