Gossip is always a personal confession either of malice or imbecility.
I softly sink into the bath of sleep: With eyelids shut, I see around me close The mottled, violet vapors of the deep, That wraps me in repose.
Ah! soul of mine! Ah! soul of mine! Thy sluggish senses are but bars That stand between thee and the stars, And shut thee from the world divine.
It is by work that man carves his way to that measure of power which will fit him for his destiny.
He that cannot paint must grind the colors.
Patience, persistence, and power to do are only acquired by work.
There is nothing more precious to a man than his will; there is nothing which he relinquishes with so much reluctance.
There are no twin souls in God’s universe.
A life in any sphere that is the expression and outflow of an honest, earnest, loving heart, taking counsel only of God and itself, will be certain to be a life of beneficence in the best possible direction.
The theological systems of men and schools of men are determined always by the character of their ideal of Christ, the central fact of the Christian system.
The secret of being loved is in being lovely; and the secret of being lovely is in being unselfish.
What do you think God gave you more wealth than is requisite to satisfy your rational wants for, when you look around and see how many are in absolute need of that which you do not need? Can you not take the hint?
Wants keep pace with wealth always.
Wealth is the least trustworthy of anchors.
Doubtless the world is wicked enough; but it will not be improved by the extension of a spirit which self-righteously sees more to reform outside of itself than in itself.
This world of sense, built by the imagination – how fair and foul it is! Like a fairy island in the sea of life, it smiles in sunlight and sleeps in green, known of the world not by communion of knowledge, but by personal, secret discovery!
Cost is the father and compensation the mother of progress.
There are crowds who trample a flower into the dust without thinking once that they have one of the sweetest thoughts of God under their heel.
Scholarship, save by accident, is never the measure of a man’s power.
Music is a thing of the soul-a roselipped shell that murmured of the eternal sea-a strange bird singing the songs of another shore.