We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.

Reason guides but a small part of man, and the rest obeys feeling, true or false, and passion, good or bad.

The habit of prayer communicates a penetrating sweetness to the glance, the voice, the smile, the tears,--to all one says, or does, or writes.

Present unhappiness is selfish; past sorrow is compassionate.

The Holy Scriptures praise the dew of the morning and the dew of the evening; ros matutinum, ros serotinum! Happy is he who possesses the gift of tears! when young, he will bear flowers; when old, fruit!

There is a slowness in affairs which ripens them, and a slowness which rots them.

Length of saying makes languor of hearing.