Reveal not every secret you have to a friend, for how can you tell but that friend may hereafter become an enemy. And bring not all mischief you are able to upon an enemy, for he may one day become your friend.
My eyes swam and watered and I literally couldn't breathe through the pain.
I kept talking. "Listen -- this is some kind of misunderstanding.
The car slewed to a stop and only then did I notice that it wasn't a cop car, ambulance or fire-engine.
I love my past. I love my present. I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and I'm not sad because I have it no longer.
In an industrial society which confuses work and productivity, the necessity of producing has always been an enemy of the desire to create.
We have too many high sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them.