Of all the music that reached farthest into heaven, it is the beating of a loving heart.
HENRY WARD BEECHERSome men are like pyramids, which are very broad where they touch the ground, but grow narrow as they reach the sky.
More Henry Ward Beecher Quotes
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If you want your neighbor to know what Christ will do for him, let the neighbor see what Christ has done for you.
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Laws and institutions, like clocks, must occasionally be cleaned, wound up, and set to true time.
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Debt rolls a man over and over, binding him hand and foot, and letting him hang upon the fatal mesh until the long-legged interest devours him.
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The sphere that is deepest, most unexplored, and most unfathomable, the wonder and glory of God’s thought and hand, is our own soul!
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True obedience is true freedom.
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To the great tree-loving fraternity we belong. We love trees with universal and unfeigned love, and all things that do grow under them or around them – the whole leaf and root tribe.
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Intelligence increases mere physical ability one half. The use of the head abridges the labor of the hands.
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No matter what looms ahead, if you can eat today, enjoy the sunlight today, mix good cheer with friends today, enjoy it and bless God for it. Do not look back on happiness — or dream of it in the future. You are only sure of today; do not let yourself be cheated out of it.
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The Church is not a gallery for the exhibition of eminent Christians, but a school for the education of imperfect ones.
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Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house.
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Men go shopping just as men go out fishing or hunting, to see how large a fish may be caught with the smallest hook.
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A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs. It’s jolted by every pebble on the road.
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A man’s character is the reality of himself; his reputation, the opinion others have formed about him; character resides in him, reputation in other people; that is the substance, this is the shadow.
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Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.
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We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.
HENRY WARD BEECHER






