God is an unutterable sigh, planted in the depths of the soul.
Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains; but, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them.
There are souls which fall from heaven like flowers, but ere they bloom are crushed under the foul tread of some brutal hoof.
How narrow our souls become when absorbed in any present good or ill! It is only the thought of the future that makes them great.
There are souls in this world which have the gift of finding joy everywhere and of leaving it behind them when they go.
The last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, philanthropy toward the misanthropic.
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