A mother's love, in a degree, sanctifies the most worthless offspring.

I have somewhere read that conscience not only sits as witness and judge within our bosoms, but also forms the prison of punishment.

Pretension almost always overdoes the original, and hence exposes itself.

How white are the fair robes of Charity as she walketh amid the lowly habitations of the poor!

Moderation is the key to lasting enjoyment.

Duty itself is supreme delight when love is the inducement and labor. By such a principle the ignorant are enlightened, the hard-hearted softened, the disobedient reformed, and the faithful encouraged.

Unless we find repose within ourselves, it is vain to seek it elsewhere.