“The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.”

He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.

The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.

An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless if it goes as when it stands.

If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one.

Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little; we owe it everything.

What peaceful hours I once enjoy’d! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.

Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others’ bare.

Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.

God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money,

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.

But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy’s door.

Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.

Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.

Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.

All day long you see those commercials: ‘Here’s Your Brain, Just Say No’…and the next commercial is: ‘This Bud’s For You.’

The bud of victory is always in the truth.

And he nipped them in the bud, right at the end

He’s going on and on and on, and finally he stops. It’s just total horror, and the camera’s still rolling. You can hear it, sort of a grinding noise. And the director says, “Anything else, Bud?”

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

The principle of order in me, around me, and in the world… I would watch the buds swell in spring, the mica glint in the granite, my own hands, and I would say to myself: “I will understand this, too, I will understand everything.

The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers….Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.

How many thorns of human nature are bristling conceits, buds of promise grown sharp for want of congenial climate.