Any life, no matter how long and complex it may be, is made up of a single moment - the read more

Any life, no matter how long and complex it may be, is made up of a single moment - the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is.

O, my lord,
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth:
The prince my brother hath read more

O, my lord,
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth:
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.

A lover of Jesus and of the truth . . . can lift himself above
himself in spirit.
read more

A lover of Jesus and of the truth . . . can lift himself above
himself in spirit.
[Lat., Amator Jesu et veritatis . . . potest se . . . elevare
supra seipsum in spiritu.]

The art of progress is to preserve order amid change, and to preserve change amid order. Life refuses to be read more

The art of progress is to preserve order amid change, and to preserve change amid order. Life refuses to be embalmed alive.

"Oh! what a vile and abject thing is man unless he can erect
himself above humanity." Here is a read more

"Oh! what a vile and abject thing is man unless he can erect
himself above humanity." Here is a bon mot and a useful desire,
but equally absurd. For to make the handful bigger than the
hand, the armful bigger then the arm, and to hope to stride
further than the stretch of our legs, is impossible and
monstrous. . . . He may lift himself if God lend him His hand of
special grace; he may lift himself . . . by means wholly
celestial. It is for our Christian religion, and not for his
Stoic virtue, to pretend to this divine and miraculous
metamorphosis.

'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.

'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.

The gem cannot be polished without friction, not a man perfected without trials.

The gem cannot be polished without friction, not a man perfected without trials.

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long read more

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it falls and die that night--
It was the plant and flower of Light.

If we're growing, we're always going to be out of our comfort zone.

If we're growing, we're always going to be out of our comfort zone.