“The truths that I know best I have learned on my knees. I never know a thing well, till it is burned into my heart by prayer.”

As your faith is, such your hope will be. Hope is never ill when faith is well, nor strong if faith be weak.

Humility is the light of understanding.

There hath not one tear dropped from thy tender eye against thy lusts, the love of this world, or for more communion with Jesus Christ, but as it is now in the bottle of God.

Man indeed is the most noble, by creation, of all the creatures in the visible World; but by sin he has made himself the most ignoble.

A tender heart is a wakeful, watchful heart. It watches against sin in the soul, sin in the family, sin in the calling, sin in spiritual duties and performances.

At the day of Doom men shall be judged according to their fruits. It will not be said then, did you believe? But, were you doers or talkers only?

Prayer is a shield to the soul.

We know not the matter of the things for which we should pray, neither the object to whom we pray, nor the medium by or through whom we pray; none of these things know we, but by the help and assistance of the Spirit.

A man there was, though some did count him mad, the more he cast away the more he had.

Afflictions make the heart more deep, more experimental, more knowing and profound, and so, more able to hold, to contain, and beat more.

I am content with what I have, little be it, or much.

No man, without trials and temptations, can attain a true understanding of the Holy Scriptures.

There is no way to kill a man’s righteousness but by his own consent.

The difference between true and false repentance lies in this: the man who truly repents cries out against his heart; but the other, as Eve, against the serpent, or something else.

The more he cast away, the more he had.

To run and work the law commands, but gives us neither feet nor hands. But better news the gospel brings, it bids us fly and gives us wings.

The only history that matters is the history we know.

The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.

Some days I wake up and all I feel are the fractures in the flesh that covers the only me I’ve ever known.

Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don’t notice whether it’s passing quickly or slowly.

If I get to know somebody, I’ll open up, but other than that I like to sit back and observe things.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.

To know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.