Not A Deed Would He Do, Not

It Is The Rooted Instinct In Men To Admire What Is Better And More Beautiful Than Themselves.

The Eye Is The Notebook Of The Poet.

There Is No Self-delusion More Fatal Than That Which Makes The Conscience Dreamy With The Anodyne Of Lofty Sentiments, While The Life Is Groveling And Sensual

Where One Person Shapes Their Life By Precept And Example, There Are A Thousand Who Have Shaped It By Impulse And Circumstances.

The Only Conclusive Evidence Of A Man's Sincerity Is That He Gives Himself For A Principle. Words, Money, All Things Else, Are Comparatively Easy To Give Away; But When A Man Makes A Gift Of His Daily Life And Practice, It Is Plain That The Truth, Whatever It May Be, Has Taken Possession Of Him.