A man who does not love praise is not a full man.
Flattery is praise insincerely given for an interested purpose.
The meanest, most contemptible kind of praise is that which first speaks well of a man, and then qualifies it with a But.
There can be no barrenness in full summer. The very sand will yield something. Rocks will have mosses, and every rift will have its wind-flower, and every crevice a leaf; while from the fertile soil will be reared a gorgeous troop of growths, that will carry their life in ten thousand forms, but all with praise to God. And so it is when the soul knows its summer. Love redeems its weakness, clothes its barrenness, enriches its poverty, and makes its very desert to bud and blossom as the rose.
The gravest events dawn with no more noise than the morning star makes in rising. All great developments complete themselves in the world and modestly wait in silence, praising themselves never, and announcing themselves not at all. We must be sensitive, and sensible, if we would see the beginnings and endings of great things. That is our part.
There is not a person we employ who does not, like ourselves, desire recognition, praise, gentleness, forbearance, patience.
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