She hates everything that is not what she longs for.
My life is too short, and God’s work is too great for me to think of making a home for myself in this world.
We are overhasty to speak as if God did not manifest himself by our silent feeling, and make his love felt through ours.
It is the favourite stratagem of our passions to sham a retreat, and to turn sharp round upon us at the moment we have made up our minds that the day is our own.
He had no ideal world of dead heroes; he knew little of the life of men in the past; he must find the beings to whom he could cling with loving admiration among those who came within speech of him.
The secret of our emotions never lies in the bare object, but in its subtle relations to our own past.
When a homemaking aunt scolds a niece for following her evangelistic passion instead of domestic pursuits, her reply is interesting. First, she clarifies that God's individual call on her doesn't condemn those in more conventional roles. Then, she sa...
It's easy finding reasons why other folks should be patient.
Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf.
In our instinctive rebellion against pain, we are children again, and demand an active will to wreak our vengeance on.
He was one of those men, and they are not the commonest, of whom we can know the best only by following them away from the marketplace, the platform, and the pulpit, entering with them into their own homes, hearing the voice with which they speak to ...
Those slight words and looks and touches are part of the soul's language; and the finest language, I believe, is chiefly made up of unimposing words, such as "light," "sound," "stars," "music"—words really not worth looking at, or hearing, in thems...
Falsehood is so easy, truth so difficult....Examine your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings -- much harder than to say so...
Our deeds determine us, as long as we determine our deeds
He sat watching what went forward with the quiet outward glance of healthy old age.
Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them: they can be injured by us, they can be wounded; they know all our penitence, all our aching sense that their place is empty, all the kisses we bestow on the smallest relic of their presence.
She had forgotten his faults as we forget the sorrows of our departed childhood.
Mr. Craig was not above talking politics occasionally, though he piqued himself rather on a wise insight than on specific information.
