In Agony Or Danger, No Nature Is

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.

Going To The Opera, Like Getting Drunk, Is A Sin That Carries Its Own Punishment With It.

Proportion And Propriety Are Among The Best Secrets Of Domestic Wisdom; And There Is No Surer Test Of Integrity Than A Well-proportioned Expenditure.

Subduing And Subdued, The Petty Strife, Which Clouds The Colour Of Domestic Life; The Sober Comfort, All The Peace Which Springs From The Large Aggregate Of Little Things; On These Small Cares Of Daughter, Wife Or Friend, The Almost Sacred Joys Of Home Depend.