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.

When a man's pride is subdued it's like the sides of Mount Aetna. It was terrible during the eruption, but when that is over and the lava is turned into soil, there are vineyards and olive trees which grow up to the top.

It is the end of art to inoculate men with the love of nature.

Nowhere else can one find so miscellaneous, so various, an amount of knowledge as is contained in a good newspaper.

There is a dew in one flower and not in another, because one opens in cup and takes it in, while the other closes itself, and the drops run off. God rains His goodness and mercy as widespread as the dew, and if we lack them, it is because we will not open our hearts to receive them.

“I can forgive, but I cannot forget,” is only another way of saying, “I will not forgive.”

A helping word to one in trouble is often like a switch on a railroad track-an inch between wreck and smooth-rolling prosperity.