“I can forgive, but I cannot forget,” is only another way of saying, “I will not forgive.”
HENRY WARD BEECHERHome should be an oratorio of the memory, singing to all our after life melodies and harmonies of old-remembered joy.
More Henry Ward Beecher Quotes
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Joy is more divine than sorrow, for joy is bread and sorrow is medicine.
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Find out what your temptations are, and you will find out largely what you are yourself.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
The cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man, and never fails to see a bad one. He is the human owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, mousing for vermin, and never seeing noble game.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
The cynic puts all human actions into two classes – openly bad and secretly bad.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
I never knew an early-rising, hard-working, prudent man, careful of his earnings, and strictly honest who complained of bad luck.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
When a man sells eleven ounces for twelve, he makes a compact with the devil, and sells himself for the value of an ounce.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
Our government is built upon the vote. But votes that are purchasable are quicksands, and a government built on them stands upon corruption and revolution.
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The dog is the god of frolic.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
I think you might dispense with half your doctors if you would only consult Dr. Sun more.
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Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
God sends experience to paint men’s portraits.
HENRY WARD BEECHER -
I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note – torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.
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There is no friendship, no love, like that of the parent for the child.
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A man who does not know how to be angry, does not know how to be good. Now and then a man should be shaken to the core with indignation over things evil.
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The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world’s joy.
HENRY WARD BEECHER