This is the essential evil of vice: it debases a man.
Patriotism! It is used to define so many diversities, to justify so many wrongs, to compass so many ends, that its life is killed out; it becomes a dead word in the vocabulary-a blank counter, to be moved to any part of the game; and that flag which, streaming from the mast-head of our ship of state, striped with martyr-blood, and glistening with the stars of lofty promise, should always indicate our worldwide mission, and the glorious destinies that we carry forward, is bandied about in every selfish skirmish, and held up as the symbol of every political privateer.
The more we sympathize with excellence, the more we go out of self, the more we love, the broader and deeper is our personality.
Death makes a beautiful appeal to charity. When we look upon the dead form, so composed and still, the kindness and the love that are in us all come forth.
There are interests by the sacrifice of which peace is too dearly purchased. One should never be at peace to the shame of his own soul--to the violation of his integrity or of his allegiance to God.
Mercy. That is the gospel. The whole of it in one word.
Physically, man is but an atom in space, and a pulsation in time. Spiritually, the entire outward universe receives significance from him, and the scope of his existence stretches beyond the stars.
Poetry is the utterance of deep and heart-felt truth - the true poet is very near the oracle.
The worst effect of sin is within and is manifest not in poverty, and pain, and bodily defacement, but in the discrowned faculties, the unworthy love, the low ideal, the brutalized and enslaved spirit.
All evil, in fact the very existence of evil, is inexplicable until we refer to the paternity of God. It hangs a huge blot in the universe until the orb of divine love rises behind it. In that apposition we detect its meaning. It appears to us but a finite shadow as it passes across the disk of infinite light.
There must be something beyond man in this world. Even on attaining to his highest possibilities, he is like a bird beating against his cage. There is something beyond, O deathless like a sea-shell, moaning for the bosom of the ocean to which you belong!
Do not judge men by mere appearances; for the light laughter that bubbles on the lip often mantles over the depths of sadness, and the serious look may be the sober veil that covers a divine peace and joy.
I know a good many people, I think, who are bigots, and who know they are bigots, and are sorry for it, but they dare not be anything else.
The loss of fortune to a true man is but the trumpet challenge to renewed exertion, not the thunder stroke of destruction.
The creed of a true saint is to make the best of life, and to make the most of it.
In the matter of faith, we have the added weight of hope to that of reason in the convictions which we sustain relating to a future state.
There is such a thing as honest pride and self-respect.
No one can truly see Christ, and drink in the influence of his character, and not be a Christian at heart.
Ostentation is the signal flag of hypocrisy.
As for environments, the kingliest being ever born in the flesh lay in a manger.
Not in achievement, but in endurance, of the human soul, does it show its divine grandeur and its alliance with the infinite.
An aged Christian, with the snow of time upon his head, may remind us that those points of earth are whitest which are nearest to heaven.
Through every rift of discovery some seeming anomaly drops out of the darkness, and falls, as a golden link into the great chain of order.
Death is a great revealer of what is in a man, and in its solemn shadow appear the naked lineaments of the soul.
Always the idea of unbroken quiet broods around the grave. It is a port where the storms of life never beat, and the forms that have been tossed on its chafing waves lie quiet forevermore. There the child nestles as peacefully as ever it lay in its mother's arms, and the workman's hands lie still by his side, and the thinker's brain is pillowed in silent mystery, and the poor girl's broken heart is steeped in a balm that extracts its secret woe, and is in the keeping of a charity that covers all blame.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: