We are like travellers using the cinders of a volcano to roast their eggs. Whilst we see that it always stands ready to clothe what we would say, we cannot avoid the question whether the characters are not significant of themselves.

Others can get in your way temporarily, but only you can get out of your way permanently. Our best thoughts come from others.

The path of things is silent. Will they suffer a speaker to go with them?

Virtues are, in the popular estimate, rather the exception than the rule. There is the man and his virtues.

Life is not intellectual or critical, but sturdy. Its chief good is for well-mixed people who can enjoy what they find, without question.

That which we call sin in others is experiment for us.

That which befits us, embosomed in beauty and wonder as we are, is cheerfulness, and courage, and the endeavor to realize our aspirations. Shall not the heart which has received so much, trust the Power by which it lives? May it not quit other leadings, and listen to the Soul that has guided it so gently, and taught it so much, secure that the future will be worthy of the past?