What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the hour of adoration, the hour of rest, when we think of those we love only to regret that we have not loved them more dearly, when we remember our enemies only to forgive them.

The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.

How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.

As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.

Difficulty on the way to victory is opportunity for God to work