Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you’re aboard, there’s nothing you can do.
The conscious mind may be compared to a fountain playing in the sun and falling back into the great subterranean pool of subconscious from which it rises.
The game of golf would lose a great deal if croquet mallets and billiard cues were allowed on the putting green.
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?
The metaphor is perhaps one of man’s most fruitful potentialities. Its efficacy verges on magic, and it seems a tool for creation which God forgot inside one of His creatures when He made him.
When you have shot one bird flying you have shot all birds flying. They are all different and they fly in different ways but the sensation is the same and the last one is as good as the first.
A good sermon should be like a woman’s skirt: short enough to arouse interest but long enough to cover the essentials.
What light is to the eyes – what air is to the lungs – what love is to the heart, liberty is to the soul of man.
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