“If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know w…” — Rudyard Kipling

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

A people always ends by resembling its shadow.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

Asia is not going to be civilized after the methods of the West. There is too much Asia and she is too old.