Can human nature ever be wholly and radically transformed? Can the man whom God made good be made wicked by man? Can the soul be reshaped in its entirety by destiny and made evil because destiny is evil? Can the heart become misshapen and afflicted with ugly, incurable deformities under disproportionate misfortune, like a spinal column bent beneath a too low roof?

The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.

If I speak, I am condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned!

There is no distress so complete but that even in the most critical moments the inexplicable sunrise of hope is seen in its depths.

Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters.

Son, brother, father, lover, friend. There is room in the heart for all the affections, as there is room in heaven for all the stars.

He who is not capable of enduring poverty is not capable of being free.