It Is Almost A Definition Of A

After The Fever Of Life--after Wearinesses, Sicknesses, Fightings And Despondings, Languor And Fretfulness, Struggling And Failing, Struggling And Succeeding--after All The Changes And Chances Of This Troubled And Unhealthy State, At Length Comes Death--at Length The White Throne Of God--at Length The Beatific Vision.

To Take Up The Cross Of Christ Is No Great Action Done Once For All; It Consists In The Continual Practice Of Small Duties Which Are Distasteful To Us.

Life Passes, Riches Fly Away, Popularity Is Fickle, The Senses Decay, The World Changes. One Alone Is True To Us; One Alone Can Be All Things To Us; One Alone Can Supply Our Need.

Such Is The Constitution Of The Human Mind, That Any Kind Of Knowledge, If It Be Really Such, Is Its Own Reward.

Now What Is It That Moves Our Very Hearts And Sickens Us So Much At Cruelty Shown To Poor Brutes?.. They Have Done Us No Harm And They Have No Power Of Resistance... There Is Something So Very Dreadful, So Satanic, In Tormenting Those Who Have Never Harmed Us, Who Cannot Defend Themselves, Who Are Utterly In Our Power.