George Bernard Shaw

We must make the world honest before we can honestly say to our children that honesty is the best policy.

If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience!

As long as I can conceive something better than myself I cannot be easy unless I am striving to bring it into existence or clearing the way for it.

He who can, does. He who cannot, teaches.

Home life is no more natural to us than a cage is natural to a cockatoo.

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.

A blind man knows he cannot see, and is glad to be led, though it be by a dog; but he that is blind in his understanding, which is the worst blindness of all, believes he sees as the best, and scorns a guide.

The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked what I thought, and attended to my answer.

Revolutions go not backward.

Light is the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense light will not make it beautiful.

Consequences are unpitying.

We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know because they have never deceived us.

The value of a dollar is social, as it is created by society.

To me the sole hope of human salvation lies in teaching Man to regard himself as an experiment in the realization of God, to regard his hands as God’s hand, his brain as God’s brain, his purpose as God’s purpose. He must regard God as a helpless Longing, which longed him into existence by its desperate need for an executive organ.

Wherever you are, be there totally.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Man is the only animal that laughs and has a state legislature.

If we had more time for discussion we should probably have made a great many more mistakes.

Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.

There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer –committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.