Prayer is the root, the fountain, the mother of a thousand blessings.

And all men are ready to pass judgement on the priest as if he was not a being clothed with flesh, or one who inherited a human nature.

Prayer is an all-efficient panoply, a treasure undiminished, a mine which is never exhausted, a sky unobscured by clouds, a heaven unruffled by the storm. It is the root, the fountain, the mother of a thousand blessings.

It is certainly a greater and more wonderful work to change the minds of enemies, bringing about a change of soul, than to kill them.

Such is friendship, that through it we love places and seasons; for as bright bodies emit rays to a distance, and flowers drop their sweet leaves on the ground around them, so friends impart favor even to the places where they dwell. With friends even poverty is pleasant. Words cannot express the joy which a friend imparts; they only can know who have experienced. A friend is dearer than the light of heaven, for it would be better for us that the sun were exhausted than that we should be without friends.

Prayer is the root, the fountain, the mother of a thousand blessings.

I do not know whether anyone has ever succeeded in not enjoying praise. And, if we enjoy it, we naturally wants to receive it. And if we want to receive it, we cannot help but being distraught at losing it. Those who are in love with applause have their spirits starved not only when they are blamed off-hand, but even when they fail to be constantly praised.