Some men are, in regard to ridicule, like tin-roofed buildings in regard to hail: all that hits them bounds rattling off; not a stone goes through.
Mirth is God's medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it.
They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this Nation.
Of all joyful, smiling, ever-laughing experiences, there are none like those which spring from true religion.
It is a man dying with his harness on that angels love to escort upward.
The truest self-respect is not to think of self.