બધાંને એમ છે; પોતે જ સવાયું છે ખરેખર કોણ આખું ઓળખાયું છે . ચકાસો ધ્યાનથી, તો સ્પષ્ટ જણાશે બધું ''એની'' રીતે જ ગોઠવાયું છે. . હ્રદય પર હાથ રાખીને પૂછો તમને તમારાથી, તમારું પણ થવાયું છે
The only thing that really matters is that there be an action of goodness, love and intelligence in living. Is goodness individual or collective, is love personal or impersonal, is intelligence yours, mine or somebody else? If it is yours or mine then it is not intelligence, or love, or goodness. If goodness is an affair of the individual or of the collective, according to one's particular preference or decision, then it is no longer goodness.
We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.
Getting married, having children, and staying together long after all love has died, saying that it's for the good of the children (who are, apparently, deaf to the constant rows).