Our Life Is But A New Form

Like Waves, Our Feelings May Continue By Repeating Themselves, By Intermittent Rushes; But No Emotion Any More Than A Wave Can Long Retain Its Own Individual Form.

Some Sorrows Are But Footprints In The Snow, Which The Genial Sun Effaces, Or, If It Does Not Wholly Efface, Changes Into Dimples.

Ordinarily Rivers Run Small At The Beginning, Grow Broader And Broader As They Proceed, And Become Widest And Deepest At The Point, Where They Enter The Sea. It Is Such Rivers That The Christian's Life Is Like. But The Life Of The Mere Worldly Man Is Like Those Rivers In Southern Africa, Which, Proceeding From Mountain Freshets, Are Broad And Deep At The Beginning, And Grow Narrower And More Shallow As They Advance. They Waster Themselves By Soaking Into The Sands, And At Last They Die Out Entirely. The Farther They Run The Less There Is Of Them.

Mirthfulness Is In The Mind, And You Cannot Get It Out. It Is The Blessed Spirit That God Has Set In The Mind To Dust It, To Enliven Its Dark Places, And To Drive Asceticism, Like A Foul Fiend, Out At The Back Door. It Is Just As Good, In Its Place, As Conscience Or Veneration. Praying Can No More Be Made A Substitute For Smiling Than Smiling Can For Praying.

Our Best Successes Often Come After Our Greatest Disappointments.