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The sluices of the grog-shop are fed from the wine-glasses in the parlor, and there is a lineal descent from the gentleman who hiccoughs at his elegant dinner-table to the sot who makes a bed of the gutter.

Edwin Hubbel Chapin

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Edwin Hubbel Chapin
Age: 65 †
Born: 1814
Born: December 29
Died: 1880
Died: January 1
Clergyman
Priest
E. H. Chapin
Edwin Hubbell Rev. Chapin
Dinner
Shop
Wine
Feds
Makes
Shops
Gentleman
Gutter
Table
Gutters
Glasses
Parlor
Tables
Descent
Bed
Elegant

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It is the penalty of fame that a man must ever keep rising. Get a reputation, and then go to bed, is the absurdest of all maxims. Keep up a reputation or go to bed, would be nearer the truth.
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The bosom can ache beneath diamond brooches and many a blithe heart dances under coarse wool.
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There must be something beyond man in this world. Even on attaining to his highest possibilities, he is like a bird beating against his cage. There is something beyond, O deathless like a sea-shell, moaning for the bosom of the ocean to which you belong!
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A life is black, whiten it as you will.
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There is less misery in being cheated than in that kind of wisdom which perceives, or thinks it perceives, that all mankind are cheats.
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There is such a thing as honest pride and self-respect.
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We have not the innocence of Eden but by God's help and Christ's example we may have the victory of Gethsemane.
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The loss of fortune to a true man is but the trumpet challenge to renewed exertion, not the thunder stroke of destruction.
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Those old ages are like the landscape that shows best in purple distance, all verdant and smooth, and bathed in mellow light.
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Home is the seminary of all other institutions.
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Ostentation is the signal flag of hypocrisy.
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No man knows the genuineness of his convictions until he has sacrificed something for them.
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Earth has scarcely an acre that does not remind us of actions that have long preceded our own, and its clustering tombstones loom up like reefs of the eternal shore, to show us where so many human barks have struck and gone down.
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The productions of the press, fast as steam can make and carry them, go abroad through all the land, silent as snowflakes, but potent as thunder. It is an additional tongue of steam and lightning, by which a man speaks his first thought, his instant argument or grievance, to millions in a day.
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The universe is a vast system of exchange. Every artery of it is in motion, throbbing with reciprocity, from the planet to the rotting leaf.
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Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and tried.
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Why, man of idleness, labor has rocked you in the cradle, and nourished your pampered life without it, the woven silk and the wool upon your bank would be in the shepherd's fold. For the meanest thing that ministers to human want, save the air of heaven, man is indebted to toil and even the air, in God's wise ordination, is breathed with labor.
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The worst effect of sin is within and is manifest not in poverty, and pain, and bodily defacement, but in the discrowned faculties, the unworthy love, the low ideal, the brutalized and enslaved spirit.
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The unmerciful man is most certainly an unblessed man. His sympathies are all dried up he is afflicted with a chronic jaundice, and lives timidly and darkly in a little, narrow rat-hole of distrust.
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Labor, with its coarse raiment and its bare right arm, has gone forth in the earth, achieving the truest conquests and rearing the most durable monuments. It has opened the domain of matter and the empire of the mind. The wild beast has fled before it, and the wilderness has fallen back.... its triumphal march is the progress of civilization.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin