I do not myself believe there is any misfortune. What men call such is merely the shadowside of a good.

What distressed me most - more even than my own folly - was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness dwell so near?

Half of the misery in the world comes from trying to look, instead of trying to be, what one is not.

One who not merely beholds the outward shows of things, but catches a glimpse of the soul that looks out of them, whose garment and revelation they are-if he be such, I say, he will stand, for more than a moment, speechless with something akin to that which made the morning stars sing together.

But there are not a few who would be indignant at having their belief in God questioned, who yet seem greatly to fear imagining Him better than He is.

Heaven...a place where everything that is not music is silence.

Good souls many will one day be horrified at the things they now believe of God.