“Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e’en in age, and at our latest day.”

What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?

God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

Variety’s the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.

Blest be the art that can immortalize,–the art that baffles time’s tyrannic claim to quench it.

Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.

No traveler e’er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.

Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.

Would I describe a preacher, I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,

A heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.

On my worst days, I give the devil hell. On my best day, I hold a light for God to dwell.

Every person has the truth in his heart. No matter how complicated his circumstances, no matter how others look at him from the outside, and no matter how deep or shallow the truth dwells in his heart, once his heart is pieced with a crystal needle, the truth will gush forth like a geyser.

Happiness resides not in possessions, and not in gold, happiness dwells in the soul.

Anxiety, the illness of our time, comes primarily from our inability to dwell in the present moment.

We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.

The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.

The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in the blood.

Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell.