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Let us have a dagger between our teeth, a bomb in our hands, and an infinite scorn in our hearts.
Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.
The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.
Lets have faith that right makes might; and in that faith let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it.
But what are friends? What is a husband, even, compared with one's Mother? Of her love, one is always so sure! It is the only love that nothing - not even misconduct on our part - can take away from us.
There comes a point when a man must refuse to answer to his leader if he is also to answer to his own conscience.
Even in the common affairs of life, in love, friendship, and marriage, how little security have we when we trust our happiness in the hands of others!
Aristotle uses a mother's love for her child as the prime example of love or friendship.
In contentment and joy are found the height and perfection of all love towards our neighbor.
