“Our families cannot choose Christ for us. Our friends cannot do it. God is a great God, but even God can’t make the decision for us . . .we have to make our own choice.”

“Move out of your comfort zone. You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.”

“Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” 

“Your failure may put smiles on people’s faces while your success squeezes tears from their eyes. Don’t be deceived; it’s just a charm to entice you to fall in love with mediocrity!”

“If you go out looking for friends, you're going to find they are very scarce. If you go out to be a friend, you'll find them everywhere.”

“Without God’s power in your life, you are just running on your own energy. God never meant for you to do that. It’s like having a laptop that’s unplugged; the battery will eventually drain and shut down the computer. Why would you live like that when God created you for so much more?”

“I believe in one God and no more, and I hope for happiness beyond this life. I believe in the equality of man; and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy.” —Thomas Paine”

“Many people fear nothing more terribly than to take a position which stands out sharply and clearly from the prevailing opinion. The tendency of most is to adopt a view that is so ambiguous that it will include everything and so popular that it will include everybody. Not a few men who cherish lofty and noble ideals hide them under a bushel for fear of being called different.”

“Dogs are my favorite role models. I want to work like a dog, doing what I was born to do with joy and purpose. I want to play like a dog, with total, jolly abandon. I want to love like a dog, with unabashed devotion and complete lack of concern about what people do for a living, how much money they have, or how much they weigh. The fact that we still live with dogs, even when we don't have to herd or hunt our dinner, gives me hope for humans and canines alike.”

“The Harkonnens discouraged investigation of the spice, didn’t they?”

“Mientras no descubras un propósíto impulsor para tu vida, todo lo que estás haciendo es existir.”

“Do you really believe that the moon isn’t there when nobody looks?”

“Without God life makes no sense.”

“If freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.”

“In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.”