We are all apt to believe what the world believes about us.

I think there are stores laid up in our human nature that our understandings can make no complete inventory of.

I trust you as holy men trust God; you could do nought that was not pure and loving, though the deed might pierce me unto death.

But what we strive to gratify, though we may call it a distant hope, is an immediate desire; the future estate for which men drudge up city alleys exists already in their imagination and love.

And certainly, the mistakes that we male and female mortals make when we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that we are so fond of it.

It is better sometimes not to follow great reformers of abuses beyond the threshold of their homes.

Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.