The love of our own language, what is it, in fact, but the love of our country expressing itself in one particular direction?

There is hardly a mistake which in the course of our lives we have committed, but some proverb, had we known and attended to its lesson, might have saved us from it.

Best friends might loathe us, if what things perverse we know of our own selves they also knew.

Sin may be clasped so close, we cannot see its face.

Language is the amber in which a thousand precious and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved.

We kneel, how weak; we rise, how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others — that we are not always strong, That we are ever overborne with care, That we should ever weak or heartless be, Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, And joy and strength and courage are with Thee?

Language is the close-fitting dress of thought.