O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!

He who indulges his sense in any excesses renders himself obnoxious to his own reason; and, to gratify the brute in him, displeases the man, and sets his two natures at variance.

Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!

A sinful heart makes feeble hand.

A thousand fearful images and dire suggestions glance along the mind when it is moody and discontented with itself. Command them to stand and show themselves, and you presently assert the power of reason over imagination.

He that climbs a ladder must begin at the first round.

Welcome as the flowers in May.