The Greatest Of All Crosses Is Self.

It Is This Unquiet Self-love That Renders Us So Sensitive. The Sick Man, Who Sleeps Ill, Thinks The Night Long. We Exaggerate, From Cowardice, All The Evils Which We Encounter; They Are Great, But Our Sensibility Increases Them. The True Way To Bear Them Is To Yield Ourselves Up With Confidence To God.

We Are Never Less Alone Than When We Are In The Society Of A Single, Faithful Friend; Never Less Deserted Than When We Are Carried In Tne Arms Of The All-powerful.

Nothing Is So Costly As The Pursuit Of A Cure For Imaginary Ills.

In The Light Of Eternity We Shall See That What We Desired Would Have Been Fatal To Us, And That What We Would Have Avoided Was Essential To Our Well-being.

A Good Historian Is Timeless; Although He Is A Patriot, He Will Never Flatter His Country In Any Respect.