I rose as from the death that wipes out the sadness of life, and then dies itself in the new morrow.

God will not take shelter behind a jugglery of logic or metaphysics. He is neither a schoolman nor theologian, but our Father in Heaven.

It is by loving and not by being loved that one can come nearest to the soul of another.

Philosophy is really homesickness.

Forgiveness is the giving and so the receiving of life. the latter may be an impulse of a moment of heat; whereas the former is a cold and deliberate choice of the heart.

But I begin to think the chief difficulty in writing a book must be to keep out what does not belong to it.

A perfect faith would lift us absolutely above fear