Profaneness Is A Brutal Vice.

Whatever Touches The Nerves Of Motive, Whatever Shifts Man's Moral Position, Is Mightier Than Steam, Or Calorie, Or Lightening.

There Is No Happiness In Life, There Is No Misery Like That Growing Out Of The Dispositions Which Consecrate Or Desecrate A Home.

If Angels Stoop From Visions Of More Than Earthly Beauty To Spells Of Less Than Earthly Worth, They Are But Fallen Angels, Mingling Divine Utterances With The Babblings Of Madness, And The Madness Is Not The Divineness.

Man Gains Wider Dominion By His Intellect Than By His Right Arm. The Mustard-seed Of Thought Is A Pregnant Treasury Of Vast Results. Like The Germ In The Egyptian Tombs Its Vitality Never Perishes; And Its Fruit Will Spring Up After It Has Been Buried For Long Ages.

The Creed Of A True Saint Is To Make The Best Of Life, And To Make The Most Of It.