Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts, where all that we have loved or shall love must die? Is death, then, the secret of life? The gloom of an eternal mourning enwraps, more or less closely, every serious and thoughtful soul, as night enwraps the universe.

Never to tire, never to grow cold; to be patient, sympathetic, tender; to look for the budding flower and the opening heart; to hope always; like God, to love always--this is duty.

Action and faith enslave thought, both of them in order not be troubled or inconvenienced by reflection, criticism, and doubt.

To do easily what is difficult for others is the mark of talent.

From every spot on earth we are equally near heaven and the infinite.

What we call little things are merely the causes of great things.

Every situation is an equilibrium of forces; every life is a struggle between opposing forces working within the limits of a certain equilibrium