The advance of scientific knowledge does not seem to make either our universe or our inner life in it any less mysterious.
Time takes away the grief of men.
Man's mind is so formed that it is far more susceptible to falsehood than to truth.
It is an unscrupulous intellect that does not pay to antiquity its due reverence.
God has administered to us of the present age, a bitter draught and a harsh physician, on account of our abounding infirmities.
Only a very few can be learned, but all can be Christian, all can be devout, and – I shall boldly add – all can be theologians.
War is delightful to those who have had no experience of it.
Where men had once howled and hacked at one another, and fought nip-and-tuck with nature as well, the machines hummed and whirred and clicked, and made parts for baby carriages and bottle caps, motorcycles and refrigerators, television sets and tricycles-the fruits of peace.
You see, things being good has nothing to do with how you feel outside, it is all to do with how you are inside.
Ultimately, we measure ourselves against our own ideas of idealism and perfection, and we don't always come very close to them.
my uncle. . . had the misfortune to be ever touched in his brain, and, as a convincing proof, married his maid, at an age when he and she both had more occasion for a nurse than a parson.