It may often be noticed, the less virtuous people are, the more they shrink away from the slightest whiff of the odour of un-sanctity. The good are ever the most charitable, the pure are the most brave.

One only "right" we have to assert in common with mankind--and that is as much in our hands as theirs--is the right of having something to do.

We never discover the value of things till we have lost them.

To-morrow is ah, whose?

Action is the parent of results; dormancy, the brooding mother of discontent.

There is no sorrow under heaven which is, or ought to be, endless. To believe or to make it so, is an insult to Heaven itself.

Not perhaps until later life, until the follies, passions, and selfishness of youth have died out, do we . . . recognize the the inestimable blessing, the responsibility awful as sweet, of possessing or of being a friend.