The great business of life is to be, to do, to do without and to depart.

They are the guiding oracles which man has found out for himself in that great business of ours, of learning how to be, to do, to do without, and to depart.

And while the law of competition may be sometimes hard for the individual, it is best for the race, because it ensures the survival of the fittest in every department.

The beauty of independence, departure, actions that rely on themselves.

I have always detested any departure from reality, an attitude which I relate to my mother's poor mental health.

The arts equally have distinct departments, and unless photography has its own possibilities of expression, separate from those of the other arts, it is merely a process, not an art.

Real silencing occurs when a conservative tries to speak at a liberal university like Berkeley, and the party of anger and violence acts on their hatred when a police department says we can't protect a Republican speaker.

I really have a great deal of humility in that department, and a great deal of respect for people who spend their lives learning how to make these amazing preparations.

Oamenii trecutului nu au spectacular decat prestigiul departarii

Nu vreau s? pl?ng, ea nu ar fi vrut s? m? vad? astfel. ?ngenuncheat, distrus, departe de femeia care mai ieri ?mi spunea c? m? iube?te. Sunt ?n aceea?i ?nc?pere cu ea, ?i totu?i am impresia c? suntem ?n dou? lumi diferite. Oare ?n lumea ei mai sunt prezent? A? vrea s? urlu tare ?i s? ?i spun c? ?n oricare dintre lumile din acest Univers, dac? ele exist?, ea este prezent? ?n fiecare celul? a fiin?ei mele. Unde e?ti, Angeline?

? Nu vreau s? pl?ng, ea nu ar fi vrut s? m? vad? astfel. ?ngenuncheat, distrus, departe de femeia care mai ieri ?mi spunea c? m? iube?te. Sunt ?n aceea?i ?nc?pere cu ea, ?i totu?i am impresia c? suntem ?n dou? lumi diferite. Oare ?n lumea ei mai sunt prezent? A? vrea s? urlu tare ?i s? ?i spun c? ?n oricare dintre lumile din acest Univers, dac? ele exist?, ea este prezent? ?n fiecare celul? a fiin?ei mele. Unde e?ti, Angeline?

?Nu vreau s? pl?ng, ea nu ar fi vrut s? m? vad? astfel. ?ngenuncheat, distrus, departe de femeia care mai ieri ?mi spunea c? m? iube?te. Sunt ?n aceea?i ?nc?pere cu ea, ?i totu?i am impresia c? suntem ?n dou? lumi diferite. Oare ?n lumea ei mai sunt prezent? A? vrea s? urlu tare ?i s? ?i spun c? ?n oricare dintre lumile din acest Univers, dac? ele exist?, ea este prezent? ?n fiecare celul? a fiin?ei mele. Unde e?ti, Angeline?

Life crashes like waves against the shore of my heart. Your love has become the safe harbor from which my soul can never depart

I believe the first draft of a book - even a long one - should take no more than three months?Any longer and - for me, at least - the story begins to take on an odd foreign feel, like a dispatch from the Romanian Department of Public Affairs, or something broadcast on high-band shortwave duiring a period of severe sunspot activity.

He woke her then, and trembling and obedient, she ate that burning heart out of his hand. Weeping, I saw him then depart from me. Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for her? Find nourishment in the very sight of her? I think so. But would she see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?

What God says is best, indeed is best, though all men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers his religion; seeing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest; and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates him: Shame, depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation.

Burnout is nature's way of telling you, you've been going through the motions your soul has departed; you're a zombie, a member of the walking dead, a sleepwalker. False optimism is like administrating stimulants to an exhausted nervous system.

"It seems that a profound, impartial, and absolutely just opinion of our fellow-creatures is utterly unknown. Either we are men, or we are women. Either we are cold, or we are sentimental. Either we are young, or growing old. In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows. And why, if this -- and much more than this is true -- why are we yet surprised in the window corner by a sudden vision that the young man in the chair is of all things in the world the most real, the most solid, the best known to us--why indeed? For the moment after we know nothing about him.

When the dead departed, they took away any falsehoods that they might have allowed us to believe while alive; we who are left behind have to embark on a different life, since the dead are no longer here to help us deceive ourselves.

Luz's manner of speaking made it clear that she had no idea what she might say next. It wasn't that she made things up, strictly speaking--only that facts were merely a point of departure for her.

Justice is itself the great standing policy of civil society; and any eminent departure from it, under any circumstances, lies under the suspicion of being no policy at all.

The good is the Enemy of the best. Until you depart from the good, you cannot enter God's best for your life.

When we struggle for human rights, for freedom, for dignity, when we feel that it is a ministry of the church to concern itself for those who are hungry, for those who have no schools, for those who are deprived, we are not departing from God's promise. He comes to free us from sin, and the church knows that sin's consequences are all such injustices and abuses. The church knows it is saving the world when it undertakes to speak also of such things.

He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations, and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe.