Even If No Command To Pray Had

That Love Of Self, Which The World Advocates, Is A Thousand Times More Dangerous Than Any Poison.

There Is A Set Of Religious, Or Rather Moral, Writings Which Teach That Virtue Is The Certain Road To Happiness, And Vice To Misery In This World. A Very Wholesome And Comfortable Doctrine, And To Which We Have But One Objection, Namely, That It Is Not True.

The Past But Lives In Written Words: A Thousand Ages Were Blank If Books Had Not Evoked Their Ghosts, And Kept The Pale Unbodied Shades To Warn Us From Fleshless Lips.

No More Restless Uncertainties, No More Anxious Desires, No More Impatience At The Place We Are In; For It Is God Who Has Placed Us There, And Who Holds Us In His Arms. Can We Be Unsafe Where He Has Placed Us?

How Desirable Is This Simplicity! Who Will Give It To Me? I Will Quit All Else; It Is The Pearl Of Great Price.