All men are frail; but thou shouldst reckon none so frail as thyself.

Thou art my glory and the exultation of y heart: thou art my hope and refuge in the day of my trouble.

No confict is so severe as his who labors to subdue himself.

So fixed are our spirits in slothfulness and cold indifference that we seldom overcome so much as one evil habit.

A life without purpose is a languid, drifting thing; Every day we ought to review our purpose, saying to ourselves: This day let me make a sound beginning, for what we have hitherto done is naught!

If thou art willing to suffer no adversity, how wilt thou be the friend of Christ?

All men are frail; but thou shouldst reckon none so frail as thyself.