This head has risen above its hair in a moment of abandon known only to men who have drawn their feet out of their boots to walk awhile in the corridors of the mind.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
The heart has a yearning for the unknown, a longing to penetrate the deep shadow and the winding glade, where, as it seems, no human foot has been.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
One half-conscious thought was burned in my mind: stay on your feet.
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
There is a certain head, and that head you have not. Now this being so, there is a head which you have not; therefore, you are without a head.
No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
I am not the archetypal leading man. This is mainly for one reason: as you may have noticed, I have no hair.
Whoever thinks that he alone has speech, or possesses speech or mind above others, when unfolded such men are seen to be empty.
He whose head is in heaven need not fear to put his feet into the grave.
What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful than the garment with which it is clothed?