THERE’S not a star the heaven can show,
There’s not a cottage hearth below,
But feeds with solace kind the willing soul—
Men love us, or they need our love;
Freely they own, or heedless prove
The curse of lawless hearts, the joy of self-control.
EVERY life is a profession of faith, and exercises an inevitable and silent propaganda. As far as lies in its power, it tends to transform the universe and humanity into its own image. Thus we have all a cure of souls. Every man is a centre of perpetual radiation like a luminous body; he is, as it were, a beacon which entices a ship upon the rocks if it does not guide it into port. Every man is a priest, even involuntarily; his conduct is an unspoken sermon, which is for ever preaching to others;—but there are priests of Baal and Moloch, and of all the false gods.
Henri F. Amiel
PERSONS lightly dip’d, not grain’d in generous Honesty, are but pale in Goodness, and faint hued in Sincerity. But be thou what thou virtuously art, and let not the Ocean wash away thy Tincture. Stand magnetically upon that Axis where prudent Simplicity hath fix’d thee; and let no temptation invert the Poles of thy Honesty; and that Vice may be uneasie and even monstrous unto thee, let iterated good Acts and long confirmed Habits make Vertue natural, or a second Nature in thee.
Sir Thomas Browne