I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.

Of present fame think little and of future less the praises that we receive after we are buried like the flowers that are strewed over our grave may be gratifying to the living but they are nothing to the dead.

Sweet is the scene where genial friendship plays the pleasing game of interchanging praise.

There is no friend like an old friend who has shared our morning days no greeting like his welcome no homage like his praise.

We are willing enough to praise freedom when she is safely tucked away in the past and cannot be a nuisance. In the present amidst dangers whose outcome we cannot foresee we get nervous about her and admit censorship.

I fear only God all praises to Him.

Now God be praised that to believing souls gives light in darkness comfort in despair.

Experience praises the most happy the one who made the most people happy.

People praise virtue but they hate it they run away from it. It freezes you to death and in this world you've got to keep your feet warm.

It is a sign of creeping inner death when we can no longer praise the living.