This divineness had that in it which, though commanding worship, at the same time enforced a certain nameless terror.

We cannibals must help these Christians.

Are not half our lives spent in reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences of which we were wholly ignorant at the time?

He knows himself, and all that's in him, who knows adversity.

Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I.

Those of us who always abhorred slavery as an atheistical iniquity, gladly we join in the exulting chorus of humanity over its downfall.

I'll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy.