All Desire The Gifts Of

We Do Not So Much Want Books For Good People, As Books Which Will Make Bad Ones Better.

The Soul On Earth Is An Immortal Guest, Compelled To Starve At An Unreal Feast: A Spark, Which Upward Tends By Nature's Force: A Stream Diverted From Its Parent Source; A Drop Dissever'd From The Boundless Sea; A Moment, Parted From Eternity; A Pilgrim Panting For The Rest To Come; An Exile, Anxious For His Native Home.

Luxury And Dissipation, Soft And Gentle As Their Approaches Are, And Silently As They Throw Their Silken Chains About The Heart, Enslave It More Than The Most Active And Turbulent Vices

Forgiveness Saves The Expense Of Anger.

Repentance Is Not Completed By A Single Act, It Must Be Incorporated Into Our Mind, Till It Become A Fixed State, Arising From A Continual Sense Of Our Need Of It.