We often talk about "getting out of our comfort zone," but rarely about entering someone else's.

Recognizing power in another does not diminish your own.

It seems that a profound, impartial, and absolutely just opinion of our fellow-creatures is utterly unknown. Either we are men, or we are women. Either we are cold, or we are sentimental. Either we are young, or growing old. In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows. And why, if this -- and much more than this is true -- why are we yet surprised in the window corner by a sudden vision that the young man in the chair is of all things in the world the most real, the most solid, the best known to us--why indeed? For the moment after we know nothing about him.

Such is the manner of our seeing. Such the conditions of our love.

Sometimes translation stops you understanding.

I am increasingly convinced that humankind’s best future lies within the power of the imagination, with knowledge following closely in step.

A bee, though small, can still sting you; an elephant, though calm, can still trample you; a lion, though full, can still devour you.