This awful catastrophe is not the end but the beginning. History does not end so. It is the way its chapters open.

Poetry is devil's wine.

Lord, thou madest us for thyself, and we can find no rest till we find rest in thee.

Not all, nor even a majority, are saved. . . They are indeed many, if regarded by themselves, but they are few in comparison with the far larger number of those who shall be punished with the devil.

Your first task is to be dissatisfied with yourself, fight sin, and transform yourself into something better. Your second task is to put up with the trials and temptations of this world that will be brought on by the change in your life and to persevere to the very end in the midst of these things.

The desire for fame tempts even noble minds.

Grace alone brings about every good work in us.