In the isolation of his clear, cold intellect, the sceptic abides in a glacial and spectral universe. No glow from the affections lights up the frost and shadow of the grave. He feels no prophecy in the thrill of the human heart-in the incompleteness of nature. He believes merely in things tangible, and sees only in the daytime. He will not confess the authenticity of that paler light of faith which was meant to shine when the sunshine of reason falls short, and the firmament of mystery is over our heads.

I know a good many people, I think, who are bigots, and who know they are bigots, and are sorry for it, but they dare not be anything else.

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

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

Christ saw much in this world to weep over, and much to pray over: but he saw nothing in it to look upon with contempt.

Seeking Heaven through righteousness is not seeking righteousness, but something else;--it is not loving goodness for goodness' sake, but for its rewards.

Truth is the root, but human sympathy is the flower of practical life.