If There Be Any One Whose Power

The Natural Term Of An Apple-pie Is But Twelve Hours. It Reaches Its Highest State About One Hour After It Comes From The Oven, And Just Before Its Natural Heat Has Quite Departed. But Every Hour Afterward Is A Declension. And After It Is One Day Old, It Is Thence-forward But The Ghastly Corpse Of Apple-pie.

Men Of Dissolute Lives Have Little Incentive To Look Forward To The Hopes And Glories Of Immortality. A Due Conception Of These Would Be Incompatible With Such A Life.

There Are Joys Which Long To Be Ours. God Sends Ten Thousands Truths, Which Come About Us Like Birds Seeking Inlet; But We Are Shut Up To Them, And So They Bring Us Nothing, But Sit And Sing Awhile Upon The Roof, And Then Fly Away.

A Law Is Valuable Not Because It Is Law, But Because There Is Right In It.

Every Tomorrow Has Two Handles. We Can Take Hold Of It With The Handle Of Anxiety Or The Handle Of Faith.