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She hates everything that is not what she longs for.
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There is no feeling, perhaps, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music,--that does not make a man sing or play the better.
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Upon my word, I think the truth is the hardest missile one can be pelted with.
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It is a very good quality in a man to have a trout-stream.
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'Character," says Novalis, in one of his questionable aphorisms - character is destiny'.
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Jews are not fit for Heaven, but on earth they are most useful.
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The best happiness will be to escape the worst misery.
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What quarrel, what harshness, what unbelief in each other can subsist in the presence of a great calamity, when all the artificial vesture of our life is gone, and we are all one with each other in primitive mortal needs?
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When one is five-and-twenty, one has not chalk-stones at one's finger-ends that the touch of a handsome girl should be entirely indifferent.
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How will you find good? It is not a thing of choice; it is a river that flows from the foot of the Invisible Throne and flows by the path of obedience.
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Errors look so very ugly in persons of small means -one feels they are taking quite a liberty in going astray; whereas people of fortune may naturally indulge in a few delinquencies.
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Loquacity with tongue or pen is its own reward -- or, punishment.
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The sweetest of all success is that which one wins by hard exertion.
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The sublime delight of truthful speech to one who has the great gift of uttering it, will make itself felt even through the pangs of sorrow.
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It's them as take advantage that get advantage I' this world, I think: folks have to wait long enough afore it's brought to 'em.
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The scornful nostril and the high head gather not the odors that lie on the track of truth.
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Teach love, for that is what you are.
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When a homemaking aunt scolds a niece for following her evangelistic passion instead of domestic pursuits, her reply is interesting. First, she clarifies that God's individual call on her doesn't condemn those in more conventional roles. Then, she says she can no more ignore the cry of the lost than her aunt can the cry of her child.
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All things journey: sun and moon, Morning, noon, and afternoon, Night and all her stars; 'Twixt the east and western bars Round they journey, Come and go! We go with them!
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Much of our waking experience is but a dream in the daylight.
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Awful Night! Ancestral mystery of mysteries.
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It is not ignoble to feel that the fuller life which a sad experience has brought us is worth our personal share of pain. The growth of higher feeling within us is like the growth of faculty, bringing with it a sense of added strength. We can no more wish to return to a narrower sympathy than painters or musicians can wish to return to their cruder manner, or philosophers to their less complete formulas.
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Unhappily the habit of being offensive 'without meaning it' leads usually to a way of making amends which the injured person cannot but regard as a being amiable without meaning it.
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What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.