The Proud Man Hath No God; The

The Malcontent Is Neither Well, Full Nor Fasting; And Though He Abounds With Complaints, Yet Nothing Dislikes Him But The Present; For What He Condemns While It Was, Once Passed, He Magnifies And Strives To Recall It Out Of The Jaw Of Time. What He Hath He Seeth Not, His Eyes Are So Taken Up With What He Wants; And What He Sees He Careth Not For, Because Be Cares So Much For That Which Is Not.

Perfection Is The Child Of Time.

How Endless Is That Volume Which God Hath Written Of The World! Every Creature Is A Letter, Every Day A New Page.

Christian Society Is Like A Bundle Of Sticks Laid Together, Whereof One Kindles Another. Solitary Men Have Fewest Provocations To Evil, But, Again, Fewest Incitations To Good. So Much As Doing Good Is Better Than Not Doing Evil Will I Account Christian Good-fellowship Better Than An Hermitish And Melancholy Solitariness.

It Is Not He That Reads Most, But He That Meditates Most On Divine Truth, That Will Prove The Choicest, Wisest, Strongest Christian.