Labor is the handmaid of religion.
The heart has eyes which the brain knows nothing of.
The old echoes are long in dying.
Sin spoils the spirit's delicacy, and unwillingness deadens its susceptibility.
Character is the impulse reined down into steady continuance.
Faith is the very heroism and enterprise of intellect. Faith is not a passivity, but a faculty. Faith is power, the material of effect. Faith is a kind of winged intellect. The great work men of history have been men who believed like giants.