Zeal Without Humanity Is Like

Vice Is A Peripatetic, Always In Progression.

A Combed Writing Will Cost Both Sweat And The Rubbing Of The Brain. And Combed I Wish It, Not Frizzled Or Curled.

Of All Trees, I Observe God Hath Chosen The Vine, A Low Plant That Creeps Upon The Helpful Wall; Of All Beasts, The Soft And Patient Lamb; Of All Fowls, The Mild And Guileless Dove. Christ Is The Rose Of The Field, And The Lily Of The Valley. When God Appeared To Moses, It Was Not In The Lofty Cedar Nor The Sturdy Oak Nor The Spreading Palm; But In A Bush, A Humble, Slender, Abject Shrub; As If He Would, By These Elections, Check The Conceited Arrogance Of Man.

It Is A Most Unhappy State To Be At A Distance With God: Man Needs No Greater Infelicity Than To Be Left To Himself.

Virtue Dwells At The Head Of A River, To Which We Cannot Get But By Rowing Against The Stream.