Zeal is a volcano, the peak of which the grass of indecisiveness does not grow.

There is not a sprig of grass that shoots uninteresting to me.

There is no more miserable human being than one in whom nothing is habitual but indecision.

A policy is a temporary creed liable to be changed, but while it holds good it has got to be pursued with apostolic zeal.

I change my mind a lot. I usually don’t agree with what I say very much. I’m an awful liar.

I beg you be persuaded that no one would be more zealous than myself to establish effectual barriers against the horrors of spiritual tyranny, and every species of religious persecution.

Refuse to be a lazy Christian, and resist a passive, apathetic attitude.

Never let your zeal outrun your charity. The former is but human, the latter is divine.

Speak the truth, and all things alive or brute are vouchers, and the very roots of the grass underground there, do seem to stir and move to bear you witness.

One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak.

While on top of Everest, I looked across the valley towards the great peak Makalu and mentally worked out a route about how it could be climbed. It showed me that even though I was standing on top of the world, it wasn’t the end of everything. I was still looking beyond to other interesting challenges.

If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?