“The wretch who digs the mine for bread, or ploughs, that others may be fed, feel…” — Hannah More

Love never reasons, but profusely gives; it gives like a thoughtless prodigal its all, and then trembles least it has done to little.

Idleness among children, as among men, is the root of all evil, and leads to no other evil more certain than ill temper.

Luxury! more perilous to youth than storms or quicksand, poverty or chains.

Going to the opera, like getting drunk, is a sin that carries its own punishment with it.