Everything is a gift of the universe -- even joy, anger, jealously, frustration, or separateness. Everything is perfect either for read more

Everything is a gift of the universe -- even joy, anger, jealously, frustration, or separateness. Everything is perfect either for our growth or our enjoyment.

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.

'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester,
'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.'
And since, methinks, read more

'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester,
'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.'
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flow'rs are slow and weeds make haste.

Treading beneath their feet all visible things,
As steps that upwards to their Father's throne
Lead gradual.

Treading beneath their feet all visible things,
As steps that upwards to their Father's throne
Lead gradual.

"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.

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.

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.

Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
read more

Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.

Confidence is a plant of slow growth; especially in an aged bosom.

Confidence is a plant of slow growth; especially in an aged bosom.