Villainy wears many masks; none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.
It lightens the stroke to draw near to Him who handles the rod.
The paternal hearth, the rallying-place of the affections.
The tongue is the only instrument that gets sharper with use.
There are moments of mingled sorrow and tenderness, which hallow the caresses of affection.
Into the space of one little hour sins enough may be conjured up by evil tongues to blast the fame of a whole life of virtue.