Anger Is The Common Refuge Of Insignificance.

It Is A Part Of Christianity To Convert Every Natural Talent To A Religious Use.

Our Infinite Obligations To God Do Not Fill Our Hearts Half As Much As A Petty Uneasiness Of Our Own; Nor His Infinite Perfections As Much As Our Smallest Wants.

The Secret Heart Is Fair Devotion's Temple; There The Saint, Even On That Living Altar, Lights The Flame Of Purest Sacrifice, Which Burns Unseen, Not Unaccepted.

Our Merciful Father Has No Pleasure In The Sufferings Of His Children; He Chastens Them In Love; He Never Inflicts A Stroke He Could Safely Spare; He Inflicts It To Purify As Well As To Punish, To Caution As Well As To Cure, To Improve As Well As To Chastise.

The Ingenuity Of Self-deception Is Inexhaustible.