It Is Not Merely Cruelty

It Is Not Work That Kills Men; It Is Worry. Worry Is Rust Upon The Blade.

Love Is The Wine Of Existence.

While A Man Is Stringing A Harp, He Tries The Strings, Not For Music, But For Construction. When It Is Finished It Shall Be Played For Melodies. God Is Fashioning The Human Heart For Future Joy. He Only Sounds A String Here And There To See How Far His Work Has Progressed.

If Christ Is Not Divine, Every Impulse Of The Christian World Falls To A Lower Octave, And Light And Love And Hope Decline.

It's Easier To Go Down A Hill Than Up It But The View Is Much Better At The Top.