It is not the purpose of literature to purvey news. For news consult the Almanac de Gotha.
He knows himself, and all that’s in him, who knows adversity.
The world’s a ship on its voyage out, and not a voyage complete; and the pulpit is its prow.
Soldier or sailor, the fighting man is but a fiend; and the staff and body-guard of the Devil musters many a baton.
So long as a man-of-war exists, it must ever remain a picture of much that is tyrannical and repelling in human nature.
It may seem strange that of all men sailors should be tinkering at their last wills and testaments, but there are no people in the world more fond of that diversion.
We may have civilized bodies and yet barbarous souls.
But oh! shipmates! on the starboard hand of every woe, there is a sure delight; and higher the top of that delight, than the bottom of the woe is deep.
Nothing so aggravates an earnest person as a passive resistance.
Never joke at funerals, or during business transactions.
Youth is the time when hearts are large.
True Work is the necessity of poor humanity’s earthly condition. The dignity is in leisure. Besides, 99 hundredths of all the work done in the world is either foolish and unnecessary, or harmful and wicked.
All wars are boyish, and are fought by boys, The champions and enthusiasts of the state: Turbid ardors and vain joys Not barrenly abate – Stimulants to the power mature, Preparatives of fate.
All things that God would have us do are hard for us to do – remember that – and hence, he oftener commands us than endeavours to persuade.
All we discover has been with us since the sun began to roll; and much we discover, is not worth the discovering.
O Death, the Consecrator! Nothing so sanctifies a name As to be written – Dead. Nothing so wins a life from blame, So covers it from wrath and shame, As doth the burial-bed.
Were civilization itself to be estimated by some of its results, it would seem perhaps better for what we call the barbarous part of the world to remain unchanged.
Though the ancients were ignorant of the principles of Christianity there were in them the germs of its spirit.
The phantom-host has faded quite, Splendor and Terror gone – Portent or promise – and gives way To pale, meek Dawn.
What plays the mischief with the truth is that men will insist upon the universal application of a temporary feeling or opinion.