Life's a vast sea That does its mighty errand without fail, Painting in unchanged strength though waves are changing.
I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music.
Surely it is not true blessedness to be free of sorrow while there is sorrow and sin in the world. Sorrow is a part of love and love does not seek to throw it off.
That farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.
We have no right to come forward and urge wider changes for good, until we have tried to alter the evils which lie under our own hands.
A mother's yearning feels the presence of the cherished child even in the degraded man.
I couldn't live in peace if I put the shadow of a willful sin between myself and God.
Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.
A woman's hopes are woven of sunbeams; a shadow annihilates them.
Time, like money, is measured by our needs.
Education was almost entirely a matter of luck — usually of ill-luck — in those distant days.
How unspeakably the lengthening of memories in common endears our old friends!
The yoke a man creates for himself by wrong-doing will breed hate in the kindliest nature.
It's all one web, sir. The prosperity of the country is one web.
Trouble comes to us all in this life: we set our hearts on things which it isn't God's will for us to have, and then we go sorrowing.
I know forgiveness is a man's duty, but, to my thinking, that can only mean as you're to give up all thoughts o' taking revenge: it can never mean as you're t' have your old feelings back again, for that's not possible.
All our ignorance brings us closer to death.
There is a sort of subjection which is the peculiar heritage of largeness and of love; and strength is often only another name for willing bondage to irremediable weakness.
Would not love see returning penitence afar off, and fall on its neck and kiss it?
Where women love each other, men learn to smother their mutual dislike.
A supreme love, a motive that gives a sublime rhythm to a woman's life, and exalts habit into partnership with the soul's highest needs, is not to be had where and how she wills.
One soweth and another reapeth is a verity that applies to evil as well as good.
Each thought is a nail that is driven In structures that cannot decay; And the mansion at last will be given To us as we build it each day.
Sympathetic people often don't communicate well, they back reflected images which hide their own depths.
Our passions do not live apart in locked chambers but dress in their small wardrobe of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, feeding out of the common store according to their appetite.
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