Doubt That Creed Which You Cannot Reduce

Envy May Justly Be Called "the Gall Of Bitterness And Bond Of Iniquity;" It Is The Most Acid Fruit That Grows On The Stock Of Sin, A Fluid So Subtle That Nothing But The Fire Of Divine Love Can Purge It From The Soul.

O Sin, How You Paint Your Face! How You Flatter Us Poor Mortals On To Death! You Never Appear To The Sinner In Your True Character; You Make Fair Promises, But You Never Fulfil One; Your Tongue Is Smoother Than Oil, But The Poison Of Asps Is Under Your Lip!

How White Are The Fair Robes Of Charity As She Walketh Amid The Lowly Habitations Of The Poor!

Mystery And Innocence Are Not Akin.

We Must Not Only Read The Scriptures, But We Must Make Their Rules Of Life Our Own.