There is no happiness in life, there is no misery like that growing out of the dispositions which consecrate or desecrate a home.

The wild bird that flies so lone and far has somewhere its nest and brood. A little fluttering heart of love impels its wings, and points its course. There is nothing so solitary as a solitary man.

The weak sinews become strong by their conflict with difficulties.

O, how much those men are to be valued who, in the spirit with which the widow gave up her two mites, have given up themselves! How their names sparkle! How rich their very ashes are! How they will count up in heaven!

God's beneficence streams out from the morning sun, and his love looks down upon us from the starry eyes of midnight. It is his solicitude that wraps us in the air, and the pressure of his hand, so to speak, that keeps our pulses beating. O! it is a great thing to realize that the Divine Power is always working; that nature, in every valve and every artery, is full of the presence of God.

Many a man who might walk over burning ploughshares into heaven stumbles from the path because there is gravel in his shoes.

No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother's love.