There was never a person who did anything worth doing that he did not receive more than he gave.

Indeed, unless a man can link his written thoughts with the everlasting wants of men, so that they shall draw more from them as wells, there is no more immortality to the thoughts and feelings of the soul than to the muscles and bones.

There's not much practical Christianity in the man who lives on better terms with angels and seraphs than with his children, servants and neighbours.

Books are not men and yet they stay alive.

Victories are easy and cheap. The only victories worth anything are those achieved through hard work and dedication.

There is a patience that cackles. There are a great many virtues that are hen-like. They are virtue, to be sure; but everybody in the neighborhood has to know about them.

The test of Christian character should be that a man is a joy-bearing agent to the world.