Quotes to inspire and reflect

Men may doubt what you say, but they will believe what you do.

He that is overcautious will accomplish little.

The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one has to do.

We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves.

Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others, cannot keep it from themselves.

The greatest thing in this world is not so much where we are, but in which direction we are moving.

The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.

Man’s mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions.

Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

We are not amused.

 

We are not interested in the possibilities of defeat; they do not exist.

 

He speaks to Me as if I was a public meeting.

 

Precious … My Precious!

 

I will be good.

 

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them

 

Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.

 

What has it got in its pocketses?

 

Never laugh at live dragons.

 

A louse in the locks of literature.

 

That which we are, we are;

 

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

 

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

 

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,

 

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

 

I am become a name;

 

Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

 

The gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.

 

It little profits that an idle king,

 

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

 

Alone and warming his five wits,

 

My strength is as the strength of ten,

 

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,

 

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay.

 

The moan of doves in immemorial elms,

 

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,

 

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,

 

Like summer tempest came her tears.

 

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;

 

Dear as remembered kisses after death.

 

Home they brought her warrior dead.

 

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

 

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

 

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

 

The splendour falls on castle walls

 

With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,

 

God-gifted organ-voice of England,

 

After it, follow it,

 

She is coming, my dove, my dear;