Henry Ward Beecher

It makes no difference what you call men—prince, peer, or slave. Man is that name of power which rises above them all, and gives to every one the right to be that which God meant

Love, in this world, is like a seed taken from the tropics, and planted where the winter comes too soon; and it cannot spread itself in flower clusters, and wide twining vines, so that the

Now all men that angle, or catch fish by the hook and line, know that it is individual work. It is one at a time. And when men so work, they are the servants of

The voyage of life should be right across the ocean, whose waters never shrink, and where the keel never rubs the bottom. But men are afraid to venture, and hang upon the coast, and explore

To the Christian the shadow of death is the golden haze which heaven’s light makes when it meets the earth. But to the sinner these shall be shadows full of phantom shapes. Images of terror

The victim pauses, gazes around upon the scene about his path of sin, and whispers, “Is it harmless?” “Harmless!” responds a serpent from the grass. Harmless! echo the sighing winds. Harmless! re-echo a hundred airy

The most dangerous infidelity of the day is the infidelity of rich and orthodox churches.—BEECHER.

Our humiliations work out our most elevated joys. The way that a drop of rain comes to sing in a leaf that rustles in the top of a tree all summer long, is by going

Hope is one of the chambers of the soul—if haply you can see the inscription over the door. It has two sides and two windows. From one of these you can see the stars, the

A man living at a hotel is like a grape-vine in a flower pot—moveable, carried around from place to place, docked at the root and short at the top. No where can a man get