I learned real early why God gave us two ears and one mouth, because you’re supposed to listen twice as much as you talk.
You have to know that your real home is within.
How can life be worth living, if devoid Of the calm trust reposed by friend in friend? What sweeter joy than in the kindred soul, Whose converse differs not from self-communion?
A sure friend is known in unsure circumstances.
I feel it now: there’s a power in me to grasp and give shape to my world I know that nothing has ever been real without my beholding it. All becoming has need me...
Your preparation for the real world is not in the answers you’ve learned, but in the questions you’ve learned how to ask yourself.
I believe that nothing that is real can pass away.
Nothing can work damage to me except myself; the harm that I sustain I carry about with me and never am a real sufferer except by my own fault.
We take care of our health; we lay up money; we make our roof tight, and our clothing sufficient; but who provides wisely that he shall not be wanting in the best property of all, -friends?
Self sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow.
I do not hesitate to read. all good books in translations. What is really best in any book is translatable-any real insight or broad human sentiment.
Real action is in silent moments.
The real and lasting victories are those of peace, and not of war.
In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.
Be a little careful about your library. Do you foresee what you will do with it? Very little to be sure. But the real question is what it will do with you? You will come here and get books that will open your eyes, and your ears, and your curiosity, and turn you inside out or outside in.
God will have life to be real; we will be damned, but it shall be theatrical.
I grieve that grief can teach me nothing, nor carry me one step into real nature.
Spurious prudence, making the senses final, is the god of sots and cowards, and is the subject of all comedy. It is nature’s joke, and therefore literature’s. True prudence limits this sensualism by admitting the knowledge of an internal and real world.
The connection between our knowledge and the abyss of being is still real, and the explication must be not less magnificent.
In strict science, all persons underlie the same condition of an infinite remoteness. Shall we fear to cool our love by mining forthe metaphysical foundation of this elysian temple? Shall I not be as real as the things I see? If I am, I shall not fear to know them for what they are.