Sophistry Is The Fallacy Of Argument.

Our Days Are A Kaleidoscope. Every Instant A Change Takes Place In The Contents. New Harmonies, New Contrasts, New Combinations Of Every Sort. Nothing Ever Happens Twice Alike. The Most Familiar People Stand Each Moment In Some New Relation To Each Other, To Their Work, To Surrounding Objects. The Most Tranquil House, With The Most Serene Inhabitants, Living Upon The Utmost Regularity Of System, Is Yet Exemplifying Infinite Diversities.

A World Without A Sabbath Would Be Like A Man Without A Smile, Like Summer Without Flowers, And Like A Homestead Without A Garden. It Is The Most Joyous Day Of The Week.

Like A Bird She Seems To Wear Gay Plumage Unconsciously, As If It Grew Upon Her.

The Gravest Events Dawn With No More Noise Than The Morning Star Makes In Rising. All Great Developments Complete Themselves In The World And Modestly Wait In Silence, Praising Themselves Never, And Announcing Themselves Not At All. We Must Be Sensitive, And Sensible, If We Would See The Beginnings And Endings Of Great Things. That Is Our Part.

In A Great Affliction There Is No Light Either In The Stars Or In The Sun; For When The Inward Light Is Fed With Fragrant Oil; There Can Be No Darkness Though The Sun Should Go Out. But When, Like A Sacred Lamp In The Temple, The Inward Light Is Quenched, There Is No Light Outwardly, Though A Thousand Suns Should Preside In The Heavens.