Sins, like chickens, come home to roost.

Time touches all things with a destroying hand.

We sometimes underestimate the influence of little things

The workings of the human heart are the profoundest mystery of the universe. One moment they make us despair of our kind, and the next we see in them the reflection of the divine image.

I think I must write a book. It has been my cherished dream and I feel an influence that I cannot resist calling me to the task.

Selfishness is the most constant of human motives. Patriotism, humanity, or the love of God may lead to sporadic outbursts sweep away the heaped-up wrongs of centuries; but they languish at times, while the love of self works on ceaselessly, unwearyingly,burrowing always at the very root of life, and heaping up fresh wrongs for other centuries to sweep away.

Sins, like chickens, come home to roost.