Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.

Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.

The only conclusive evidence of a man's sincerity is that he gives himself for a principle. Words, money, all things else, are comparatively easy to give away; but when a man makes a gift of his daily life and practice, it is plain that the truth, whatever it may be, has taken possession of him.

The story of any one man's real experience finds its startling parallel in that of every one of us.

It is the vain endeavor to make ourselves what we are not that has strewn history with so many broken purposes and lives left in the rough.

The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers.

The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.