What profusion is there in His work! When trees blossom there is not a single breastpin, but a whole bosom full of gems; and of leaves they have so many suits that they can throw them away to the winds all summer long. What unnumbered cathedrals has He reared in the forest shades, vast and grand, full of curious carvings, and haunted evermore by tremulous music; and in the heavens above, how do stars seem to have flown out of His hand faster than sparks out of a mighty forge!

A man without mirth is like wagon without springs, in which one is caused disagreeably to jolt by every pebble over which it turns.

Men do not avail themselves of the riches of God's grace. They love to nurse their cares, and seem as uneasy without some fret as an old friar would be without his hair girdle. They are commanded to cast their cares upon the Lord, but even when they attempt it, they do not fail to catch them up again, and think it meritorious to walk burdened.

Men have a thousand desires to a bushel of choices.

No grace can save any man unless he helps himself.

Maple-trees are the cows of trees (spring-milked).

To do good work a man should no doubt be industrious. To do great work he must certainly be idle a well.