Every word was once a poem. Every new relation is a new word.

Persecution readily knits friendship between its victims.

Our prejudices are our robbers, they rob us valuable things in life. People only see what they are prepared to see.

If we will not interfere with our thought, but will act entirely, or see how the thing stands in God, we know the particular thing, and every thing, and every man.

If a man fasten his attention on a single aspect of truth and apply himself to that alone for a long time, the truth becomes distorted and not itself but falsehood.

The torments of martyrdom are probably most keenly felt by the bystanders.

Faith and love are apt to be spasmodic in the best minds: Men live on the brink of mysteries and harmonies into which yet they never enter, and with their hand on the doorlatch they die outside.