A man must have a stout digestion to feed upon some men's theology; no sap, no sweetness, no life, but all stern accuracy, and fleshless definition. Proclaimed without tenderness, and argued without affection, the gospel from such men rather resembles a missile from a catapult than bread from a Father's hand.
Feathers for Arrows: Or Illustrations for Preachers and Teachers, from My Note Book (ed. 1870)
