The observation of others is coloured by our inability to observe ourselves impartially. We can never be impartial about anything read more

The observation of others is coloured by our inability to observe ourselves impartially. We can never be impartial about anything until we can be impartial about our own organism. - Essays and Aphorisms.

What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo read more

What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

All of us are watchers -- of television, of time clocks, of traffic on the freeway -- but few are read more

All of us are watchers -- of television, of time clocks, of traffic on the freeway -- but few are observers. Everyone is looking, not many are seeing.

the tragic or the humorous is a matter of perspective

the tragic or the humorous is a matter of perspective

Sometimes I go about in pity for myself, and all the while a great wind is bearing me across the read more

Sometimes I go about in pity for myself, and all the while a great wind is bearing me across the sky.

It is our belief that if people are set free to express themselves to the fullest, their accomplishments will be read more

It is our belief that if people are set free to express themselves to the fullest, their accomplishments will be far beyond their dreams, and they will not only contribute to the growth of the company, but will also be more useful citizens and contribute to the society at large.

Never frown...even when you're sad you never know when someone is falling in love with your smile.

Never frown...even when you're sad you never know when someone is falling in love with your smile.

A "modern" man has nothing to add to modernism, if only because he has nothing to oppose it with. The read more

A "modern" man has nothing to add to modernism, if only because he has nothing to oppose it with. The well-adapted drop off the dead limb of time like lice.

The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.

The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.