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Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.

For with G.D., to be absent from the body is sometimes to be present with the Lord.

Neat, not gaudy.

Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving: Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting! Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.

The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.

The human species, according to the best theory I can form of it, is composed of two distinct races: the men who borrow, and the men who lend.

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

The game exemplifies the worst aspects of capitalism that have made our country so great.

Do not fold, spindle or mutilate.

You do not play then at whist, sir? Alas, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself! [Fr., Vous ne jouez donc pas le whist, monsieur? Helas! quelle triste vieilesse vous vous preparez!

Commemoration of Sundar Singh of India, Sadhu, Evangelist, Teacher, 1929 I am disposed to say grace upon twenty other occasions in the course of the day besides my dinner. I want a form for setting out upon a pleasant walk, for a moonlight ramble, for a friendly meeting or a solved problem. Why have we none for books, those spiritual repasts -- a grace before Milton, a devotional exercise proper to be said before reading [Spenser]?

If dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!

My motto is: Contented with little, yet wishing for more.

A woman asked a coachman, "Are you full inside?" Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, "I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gillman's did the business for me."

He hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious epicure--and for such a tomb might be content to die.

How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

The truant Fancy was a wanderer ever.

"Presents," I often say, endear Absents."

'Presents,' I often say, 'endear absents.'

We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.