Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

There is a slow-growing beauty which only comes to perfection in old age.... I have seen sweeter smiles on a lip of seventy than I ever saw on a lip of seventeen. There is the beauty of youth, and there is also the beauty of holiness—a beauty much more seldom met; and more frequently found in the arm-chair by the fire, with grandchildren around its knee, than in the ball-room or the promenade.

An old novel has a history of its own.

Yet through all, we know this tangled skein is in the hands of One, Who sees the end from the beginning: He shall unravel all.

Everything is sweetened by risk.

A thought may be very commendable as a thought, but I value it chiefly as a window through which I can obtain insight on the thinker.

The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.