We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villians by compulsion.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.
Gold--what can it not do, and undo?
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.
That is not the best sermon which makes the hearers go away talking to one another and praising the speaker, but which makes them go away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to be alone.