Eleanor Roosevelt

Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.

Happiness is not a goal…it’s a by-product of a life well lived.

Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.

I think that somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with that decision.

When will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it?

Don’t call a woman a bitch. Call her an ass-hole. It still gets your point across and it’s not sexist.

If we do not maintain Justice, Justice will not maintain us.

Choose silence of all virtues, for by it you hear other men’s imperfections, and conceal your own.

Any man or institution that tries to rob me of my dignity will lose.

To die is but to leave off dying and do the thing once for all.

The stupidity of men always invites the insolence of power.

Mountains will go into labour, and a silly little mouse will be born.

If a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his hand, no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary consideration would be to take care of ourselves. We should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards.

Great people are they who see that spiritual is stronger than any material force, that thoughts rule the world.

If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, sir, should keep his friendship in a constant repair.

It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.

The quality of strength lined with tenderness is an unbeatable combination, as are intelligence and necessity when unblunted by formal education.

I would be loath to speak ill of any person who I do not know deserves it, but I am afraid he is an attorney.

Is there anyone so wise as to learn by the experience of others?

Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep. Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes.

Death is the king of this world: ‘Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.