“Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.”

The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.

Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more.

This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life’s long race.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.

The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.

Books are not seldom talismans and spells.

Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.

I am out of humanity’s reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speech;I start at the sound of my own.

Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.

While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.

Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour;

Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.

Its never to late to get back on your feet though we wont live forever make sure you accomplish what you were put here for

Wild Eyes was built for speed and I was flying down walls of water twenty and thirty feet high.

What are you doing?” “I’m going to enjoy a long overdue make-out session with my girl. That’s what I’m doing.” I explained, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me with one shove of my foot.

I never stepped foot into a Brooks Brothers before Mad Men.

I’m content to stand on tradition. I’m even more content to wipe my feet on it.

With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish ’twere done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.

If the shoe doesn’t fit, must we change the foot?

If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street; if you try to sit, I’ll tax your seat; if you get too cold, I’ll tax the heat; if you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet.