I wondered over again for the hundredth time what could be the principle which, in the wildest, most lawless, fantastically chaotic, apparently capricious work of Nature, always kept it beautiful.

I say again, if I cannot draw a horse, I will not write THIS IS A HORSE under what I foolishly meant for one.

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

Anything large enough for a wish to light upon, is large enough to hang a prayer upon.

You would not think any duty small, If you yourself were great.

Love is the opener as well as closer of eyes.

Afflictions are but the shadows of God's wings.