It Is Not Work That Kills Men;

Each Book Has A Secret History Of Ways And Means.

There Are Many Trials In Life Which Do Not Seem To Come From Unwisdom Or Folly; They Are Silver Arrows Shot From The Bow Of God, And Fixed Inextricably In The Quivering Heart - They Are Meant To Be Borne - They Were Not Meant, Like Snow Or Water, To Melt As Soon As They Strike; But The Moment An Ill Can Be Patiently Borne It Is Disarmed Of Its Poison, Though Not Of Its Pain.

There Is So Much That Is Deaf And Dumb In Man, And So Much That Is Paralyzed, So Much That Is Shrunken, That Nothing Short Of A Miraculous Touch Of Re-creation Can Make Them At Death Perfect Beings.

Don't Look Where You Fall, But Where You Slipped.

Sorrow Makes Men Sincere.