God has made sleep to be a sponge by which to rub out fatigue. A man's roots are planted in night as in a soil.

Every fresh act of benevolence is the herald of deeper satisfaction; every charitable act a stepping-stone towards heaven.

That endless book, the newspaper, is our national glory.

Our sweetest experiences of affection are meant to be suggestions of that realm which is the home of the heart.

If there be any one whose power is in beauty, in purity, in goodness, it is a woman.

I think half the troubles for which men go slouching in prayer to God are caused by their intolerable pride. Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges. We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.

Prayer is often an argument of laziness: "Lord, my temper gives me a vast deal of inconvenience, and it would be a great task for me to correct it; and wilt thou be pleased to correct it for me, that I may get along easier?" If prayer was answered under such circumstances, independent of action of natural laws, it would be paying a premium on indolence.