Providence has a wild, rough, incalculable road to its end, and it is of no use to try to whitewash its huge, mixed instrumentalities, or to dress up that terrific benefactor in a clean shirt and white neckcloth of a student in divinity.

Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone for a thousand years.

Why should we fear to be crushed by savage elements, we who are made up of the same elements?

Many of the historical proverbs have a doubtful paternity.

Necessity does everything well.

We must not tamper with the organic motion of the soul.

Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, Cannot withhold his conquering aid.