This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Upton Sinclair, fully Upton Beall Sinclair, Jr.
There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he desires is outside; and there is another kind where the things are behind the bars, and the man is outside.
The devil will let a preacher prepare a sermon if it will keep him from preparing himself.
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Too many church services start at eleven sharp and end at twelve dull.
Some preachers ought to put more fire into their sermons, or more sermons into the fire.
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Too many churches start at eleven o'clock sharp, and end at twelve o'clock dull. You will never see revival in a comfortable church.
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Tommaso Campanella, baptized Giovanni Domenico Campanella
For joys and sorrows are their dear delight; even as a lover takes the weal and woe felt for his lady. Such is wisdom's might.
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Tom Robbins, fully Thomas Eugene "Tom" Robbins
I do not know why the dead do not come back to life. Perhaps death is so wonderful, in ways we cannot comprehend, that they prefer it over and above their friends and loved ones, although I am inclined to doubt that be the case.
An I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence, I 'ld have seen him damned ere I' ld have challenged him. Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
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Reflective apologists for war at the present day all take it religiously. It is a sort of sacrament. It's profits are to the vanquished as well as to the victor; and quite apart from any question of profit, it is an absolute good, we are told, for it is human nature at its highest dynamic.
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The normal process of life contains moments as bad as any of those which insane melancholy is filled with, moments in which radical evil gets its innings and takes its solid turn. The lunatic's visions of horror are all drawn from the material of daily fact. Our civilization is founded on the shambles, and every individual existence goes out in a lonely spasm of helpless agony. If you protest, my friend, wait till you arrive there yourself! ... Here on our very hearths and in our gardens the infernal cat plays with the panting mouse, or holds the hot bird fluttering in her jaws. Crocodiles and rattlesnakes and pythons are at this moment vessels of life as real as we are; their loathsome existence fills every minute of every day that drags its length along; and whenever they or other wild beasts clutch their living prey, the deadly horror which an agitated melancholiac feels is the literally right reaction on the situation.
We have overdeveloped the individualism that arose in a pioneer country. We are destined to become more co-operative, more collectivistic, and to find in this direction still greater opportunity for the individual, not so much restricted and defeated by competition but enlarged and enhanced by the support of a common will. It may be that the problem of material goods--of the necessary but yet external goods of food, clothing, shelter, and money-is about to be solved through new discoveries and developments, with the energies of men left freer than they have ever been to cultivate on higher levels the sharable goods of life, such as love and wisdom. These values grow with use and multiply by being freely shared.
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ROMEO: I dreamt a dream tonight. MERCUTIO: And so did I. ROMEO: Well, what was yours? MERCUTIO: That dreamers often lie. ROMEO: In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. MERCUTIO: O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes in shape no bigger than an agate stone on the forefinger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomi over men's noses as they lie asleep.
But he [Depression] just gives me that dark smile, settles into my favorite chair, puts his feet on my table and lights a cigar, filling the place with his awful smoke. Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He's going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it.
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Elizabeth Browning, fully Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Life, struck sharp on death, makes awful lightning. His last word was, 'Love–' 'Love, my child, love, love!'–(then he had done with grief) 'Love, my child.' Ere I answered he was gone, and none was left to love in all the world.
There's a joke about a very funny Italian poor man who goes to church every day to pray before the statue of a great saint, begging, Dear saint, please, please, please ... Give me the grace of winning the lottery. This lament goes on for months. Finally the exasperated statue comes to life, looks at him and says with a wearily: My son, please, please, please ... buy a ticket. '