It is the veiled angel of sorrow who plucks away one thing and another that bound us here in ease and security, and, in the vanishing of these dear objects, indicates the true home of our affections and our peace. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
In the history of man it has been very generally the case that when evils have grown insufferable they have touched the point of… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
Life, whether in this world or any other, is the sum of our attainment, our experience, our character. The conditions are secondary. In what… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
No man knows the genuineness of his convictions until he has sacrificed something for them. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
Our life is what we make it. An insignificant game or a noble trial; a dream or a reality; a play of the senses… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
Setting is preliminary to brighter rising; decay is a process of advancement; death is the condition of higher and more fruitful life. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
Life itself suggests a higher good than life itself can yield. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
A true man never frets about his place in the world, but just slides into it by the gravitation of his nature, and swings… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
There is but a slight difference between the man who may be said to know nothing and him who thinks he knows everything. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
The bosom can ache beneath diamond brooches; and many a blithe heart dances under coarse wool. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
Can you conceive of anything that so represents the glory, and truth, and marvelousness of God's nature as the idea of peace? — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
The gospel has but a forced alliance with war. Its doctrine of human brotherhood would ring strangely between the opposed ranks. The bellowing speech… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother's love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows… — Edwin Hubbel Chapin Copy Share Image
