Henry Ward Beecher Quotes
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Sharp men, like sharp needles, break easy, though they pierce quick.
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All higher motives, ideals, conceptions, sentiments in a man are of no account if they do not come forward to strengthen him for the better discharge of the duties which devolve upon him in the ordinary affairs of life.
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And now we beseech of Thee that we may have every day some such sense of God's mercy and of the power of God about us, as we have of the fullness of the light of heaven before us.
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Maple-trees are the cows of trees (spring-milked).
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There is not a heart but has its moments of longing, yearning for something better; nobler; holier than it knows now.
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Trouble teaches men how much there is in manhood.
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The indolent mind is not empty, but full of vermin.
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A woman's pity often opens the door to love.
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As the cream abandons the milk from which it took its life, and rises to the top and rides there, so men, because they are richer than those around about them, separate themselves, and all mankind below them they regard as skim milk.
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Ignorance is the womb of monsters.
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There is no such thing as white lies; a lie is as black as a coalpit, and twice as foul.
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That was a judicious mother who said, "I obey my children for the first year of their lives, but ever after I expect them to obey me.
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Vigilance is not only the price of liberty, but of success of any sort.
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True elegance becomes the more so as it approaches simplicity.
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God has made sleep to be a sponge by which to rub out fatigue. A man's roots are planted in night as in a soil.
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People may excite in themselves a glow of compassion, not by toasting their feet at the fire, and saying: "Lord, teach me compassion," but by going and seeking an object that requires compassion.
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This world is magnificent for strangers and pilgrims, but miserable for residents.
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The ability to convert ideas to things is the secret of outward success.
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But when we borrow trouble, and look forward into the future to see what storms are coming, and distress ourselves before they come as to how we shall avert them if they ever do come, we lose our proper trustfulness in God. When we torment ourselves with imaginary dangers, or trials, or reverses, we have already parted with that perfect love which casteth out fear.
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We are always on the anvil; by trials God is shaping us for higher things.
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What a pity flowers can utter no sound!-A singing rose, a whispering violet, a murmuring honeysuckle ... oh, what a rare and exquisite miracle would these be!
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As warmth makes even glaciers trickle, and opens streams in the ribs of frozen mountains, so the heart knows the full flow and life of its grief only when it begins to melt and pass away.
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The thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings.
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When a man says that he is perfect already, there is only one of two places for him, and that is heaven or the lunatic asylum.