Heaven.—The love of heaven makes one heavenly.—Shakespeare.
Where is heaven? I cannot tell. Even to the eye of faith, heaven looks much like a star to the eye of flesh. Set there on the brow of night, it shines most bright, most beautiful; but it is separated from us by so great a distance as to be raised almost as high above our investigations as above the storms and clouds of earth.—Rev. Dr. Guthrie.
When at eve at the bounding of the landscape the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope,—a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.—Madame de Staël.
Few, without the hope of another life, would think it worth their while to live above the allurements of sense.—Atterbury.
Heaven is a place of restless activity, the abode of never-tiring thought. David and Isaiah will sweep nobler and loftier strains in eternity, and the minds of the saints, unclogged by cumbersome clay, will forever feast on the banquet of rich and glorious thought.—Beecher.
Heroes.—A light supper, a good night's sleep, and a fine morning have often made a hero of the same man who, by indigestion, a restless night, and a rainy morning would have proved a coward.—Chesterfield.
In analyzing the character of heroes it is hardly possible to separate altogether the share of Fortune from their own.—Hallam.
Mankind is not disposed to look narrowly into the conduct of great victors when their victory is on the right side.—George Eliot.
No one is a hero to his valet.—Madame de Sévigné.
History.—The Grecian history is a poem, Latin history a picture, modern history a chronicle.—Chauteaubriand.