I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.

The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!

Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.

You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.

Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.

What a thing friendship is - World without end.

For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.