A habit of debt is very injurious to the memory.
A worship of truth can be idolatry if the truth is small enough.
The hardest fact in the world to accept is the inevitable mixture of evil with good in all things.
Sermons are like pie-crust, the shorter the better.
And death, that sits in marble silence cold, Will furnish hope to those who may behold The meaning in the everlasting change Of all that dies, returning, wondrous strange.
You can buy life only with life.
Love is a boomerang that returns to the thrower's hand.
That the saints were usually in ill luck does not canonize you.
Patience has tender feet.
Charity is the note that resolves the discord.
Charity is the only lubricant that keeps the axle of the world creaking.
Charity that is always beginning at home stays there.
If you combine all the spectral rays into a single beam, you get white light; and, if you combine all the virtues into a single beam, you get charity.
Some folks never handle the truth without scratching it.
Take a quart of nature, boil it down to a pint, and the residue is art.
Each man's soul is a menagerie where Conscience, the animal-tamer, lives with a collection of wild beasts.
The perfect critic is one ... that sees with the eyes of posterity.
Liberty has as many chains as an iron-monger's shop, and as rusty.
Our lives are waves that come up out of the ocean of eternity, break upon the beach of earth, and lapse back to the ocean of eternity. Some are sunlit, some run in storm and rain; one is a quiet ripple, another is a thunderous breaker; and once in many centuries comes a great tidal wave that sweeps over a continent; but all go back to the sea and lie equally level there.
We use religion like a trolley-car--we ride on it only while it is going our way.
You cannot knock a man down who will not stand up, nor argue with a skeptic.
Talent is a tenant in the house owned by genius.
The monk that invented gunpowder did as much to stop war as did all the sermons of his brethren.
Every wheatfield of human thought after a while becomes filled with cockle; then the husbandmen destroy the grain with the cockle and plant anew.
There is likely to be beauty wherever proportion exists.
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