We have, I fear, confused power with greatness.

The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mould of the body and mind entire.

The exercise of power is determined by thousands ofinteractions between the world of the powerful and that of the powerless, allthe more so because these worlds are never divided by a sharp line: everyonehas a small part of himself in both.

It is easier to discover deficiencies in indivuduals, states and providence than to see their real import and value.

Nosnowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible.

Power can be taken, but not given. The process of thetaking is empowerment in itself.

Glory is a poison that can only be taken in small doses.

Speechis human, silence is divine, yet also brutish and dead; therefore we mustlearn both arts.

Reasonand emotion are not antagonists. What seems like a struggle between twoopposing ideas or values, one of which, automatic and unconscious, manifestsitself in the form of a feeling.

Virtue is more clearly shown in the performance of fire actions than in the non-preformance of base ones.

I love power. But it is as an artist that I love it. Ilove it as a musician loves his violin, to draw out its sounds and chords andharmonies.

Toeffectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the waywe perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to ourcommunication with others.