It makes no difference where one sleeps in God's City of Zion, the air is everywhere just as all-embracingly pleasing. - Halldór Laxness

There was a time, it says in books, that the Icelandic people had only one national treasure: a bell . . . When the king decreed that the people of Iceland were to relinquish all of their brass and copper so that Copenhagen could be rebuilt following the war, men were sent to fetch the ancient bell at Þingvellir by Öxará.

The worth of any deed depends on how it is assessed by the onlookers . . . once you have made yourself look ridiculous, you go on being ridiculous whatever you do, perhaps for the rest of your life.

The most remarkable thing about man's dreams is that they all come true; this has always been the case, though no one would care to admit it.