We Have All Our Secret Sins; And

The Impulse To Confession Almost Always Requires The Presence Of A Fresh Ear And A Fresh Heart; And In Our Moments Of Spiritual Need, The Man To Whom We Have No Tie But Our Common Nature, Seems Nearer To Us Than Mother, Brother, Or Friend. Our Daily Familiar Life Is But A Hiding Of Ourselves From Each Other Behind A Screen Of Trivial Words And Deeds, And Those Who Sit With Us At The Same Hearth, Are Often The Farthest Off From The Deep Human Soul Within Us, Full Of Unspoken Evil And Unacted Good.

Inclination Snatches Arguments To Make Indulgence Seem Judicious Choice.

The First Sense Of Mutual Love Excludes Other Feelings; It Will Have The Soul All To Itself.

All Things Except Reason And Order Are Possible With A Mob.

Wear A Smile And Have Friends; Wear A Scowl And Have Wrinkles.