Impatient people, according to Bacon, are like the bees, and kill themselves in stinging others.

There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire; it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.

When we get to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere limitation and exclusion.

I'm not denyin' the women are foolish. God Almighty made 'em to match the men.

There is only one failure in life possible, and that is not to be true to the best one knows.

Lord! Thou art with Thy people still; they see Thee in the night-watches, and their hearts burn within them as Thou talkest with them by the way. And Thou art near to those that have not known Thee; open their eyes that they may see Thee--see Thee weeping over them, and saying, "Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life"--see Thee hanging on the cross and saying, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do"--see Thee as Thou wilt come again in Thy glory to judge them at the last. Amen.

Don't you meddle with me, and I won't meddle with you.