In the sacred precinct of that dwelling where the despotic woman wields the sceptre of fierce neatness, one treads as if he carried his life in his hands.
I don't like these cold, precise, perfect people, who, in order not to speak wrong, never speak at all, and in order not to do wrong, never do anything.
No man is good for anything who has not some particle of obstinacy to use upon occasion.
There are many persons who look on Sunday as a sponge to wipe out the sins of the week
A mother has, perhaps, the hardest earthly lot; and yet no mother worthy of the name ever gave herself thoroughly for her child who did not feel that, after all, she reaped what she had sown.
Pain is God's midwife, that helps some virtue into existence.
Vigilance is not only the price of liberty, but of success of any sort.
There are apartments in the soul which have a glorious outlook; from whose windows you can see across the river of death, and into the shining city beyond; but how often are these neglected for the lower ones, which have earthward-looking windows.
A reputation for good judgment, for fair dealing, for truth, and for rectitude, is itself a fortune.
Let every man come to God in his own way.
Genius is a steed too fiery for the plow or the cart.
People of too much sentiment are like fountains, whose overflow keeps a disagreeable puddle about them.
Mountains of gold would not seduce some men, yet flattery would break them down.
The philosophy of one century is the common sense of the next.
The church is no more religion than the masonry of the aqueduct is the water that flows through it.
At the bottom of every leaf-stem is a cradle, and in it is an infant germ; the winds will rock it, the birds will sing to it all summer long, but the next season it will unfold and go alone.
The one great poem of New England is her Sunday.
Many yet are the secret truths of God which will be unfolded as they are needed.
Someone calls biography the home aspect of history.
Character, like porcelain-ware, must be painted before it is glazed. There can be no change of color after it is burned in.
There are sorrows that are not painful, but are of the nature of some acids, and give piquancy and flavor to life.
Our life is but a new form of the way men have lived from the beginning.
Self-contemplation is apt to end in self-conceit.
Books are the true metempsychosis,--they are the symbol and presage of immortality. The dead men are scattered, and none shall find them. Behold they are here! they do but sleep.
Many of our troubles are God dragging us, and they would end if we would stand upon our feet and go whither He would have us go.
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