How endless is that volume which God hath written of the world! Every creature is a letter, every day a new page.

Words are as they are taken, and things are as they are used. There are even cursed blessings.

The godly man contrarily is afraid of nothing; not of God, because he knows Him his best friend, and will not hurt him; not of Satan, because he cannot hurt him; not of afflictions, because he knows they come from a loving God, and end in his good; not of the creatures, since "the very stones in the field are in league with Him;" not of himself, since his conscience is at peace.

And, if I were so low that I accounted myself the worst of all, yet some would account themselves in worse case.

Our good purposes foreslowed are become our tormentors upon our deathbed.

Society is the atmosphere of souls; and we necessarily imbibe from it something which is either infectious or healthful.

[W]e all lie down in our bed of earth as sure to wake as ever we can be to shut our eyes.