Where Is Human Nature So Weak As

The Prouder A Man Is, The More He Thinks He Deserves, And The More He Thinks He Deserves, The Less He Really Does Deserve.

For Fidelity, Devotion, Love, Many A Two-legged Animal Is Below The Dog And The Horse. Happy Would It Be For Thousands Of People If They Could Stand At Last Before The Judgment Seat And Say, I Have Loved As Truly And Have Lived As Decently As My Dog, And Yet We Call Them Only Brutes.

There Is Nothing That Is So Wonderfully Created As The Human Soul. There Is Something Of God In It. We Are Infinite In The Future, Though We Are Finite In The Past.

Living Is Death; Dying Is Life. We Are Not What We Appear To Be. On This Side Of The Grave We Are Exiles, On That Citizens; On This Side Orphans, On That Children.

I Know It Is More Agreeable To Walk Upon Carpets Than To Lie Upon Dungeon Floors, I Know It Is Pleasant To Have All The Comforts And Luxuries Of Civilization; But He Who Cares Only For These Things Is Worth No More Than A Butterfly, Contented And Thoughtless, Upon A Morning Flower; And Who Ever Thought Of Rearing A Tombstone To A Last Summer's Butterfly?