Nobody Is Kind To Only One Person

We Must Have Passed Through Life Unobservantly, If We Have Never Perceived That A Man Is Very Much Himself What He Thinks Of Others.

Labour Itself Is But A Sorrowful Song,the Protest Of The Weak Against The Strong.

God Always Fills In All Hearts All The Room Which Is Left Him There.

Many There Are Who, While They Bear The Name Of Christians, Are Totally Unacquainted With The Power Of Their Divine Religion. But For Their Crimes The Gospel Is In No Wise Answerable. Christianity Is With Them A Geographical, Not A Descriptive, Appellation.

Small Things Are Best: Grief And Unrest To Rank And Wealth Are Given; But Little Things On Little Wings Bear Little Souls To Heaven.