Hill and valley, seas and constellations, are but stereotypes of divine ideas appealing to and answered by the living soul of man.

As for environments, the kingliest being ever born in the flesh lay in a manger.

A great many men - some comparatively small men now - if put in the right position, would be Luthers and Columbuses.

The loss of fortune to a true man is but the trumpet challenge to renewed exertion, not the thunder stroke of destruction.

It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.

Those old ages are like the landscape that shows best in purple distance, all verdant and smooth, and bathed in mellow light.

Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and tried.