Hours have wings, fly up to the author of time and carry news of our usage.

All our prayers cannot entreat one of them either to return or slacken his pace.

The misspence of every minute are a new record against us in heaven.

Sure, if we thought thus, we should dismiss them with better reports,

and not suffer them to fly away empty or laden with dangerous intelligence. How happy is it,

when they carry up not only the message, but the fruits of good, and stay with the ancient

of days to speak for us before his glorious throne.

This is the beginning of a new day. God has given me this day to use as I will. I can waste it

or use it for good. What I do today is very important because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.

When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever, leaving something in its place I have traded for it.

I want it to be gain, not loss, good, not evil. Success, not failure, in order that I shall not regret the price I paid for it.