In the whole round of human affairs little is so fatal to peace as misunderstanding.
No one should teach who is not in love with teaching.
Never yet was a springtime, when the buds forgot to bloom.
It isn't the thing you do, dear, it's the thing you leave undone which gives you a bit of heartache at the setting at the setting of the sun.
Our daughters are the most precious of our treasures, the dearest possessions of our homes and the objects of our most watchful love.
Let every birthday be a festival, a time when the gladness of the house finds expression in flowers, in gifts, in a little fête. Never should a birthday be passed over without note, or as if it were a common day, never should it cease to be a garlanded milestone in the road of life.
Kindness is the truest wisdom of life and we cannot go far without it.
I think that the Almighty gave springtime to a tired world so that its peoples might know rest. I think that He gave it to a troubled world so that the world's inhabitants might find peace. I think He gave it to a discouraged world so that hope and faith might be reborn!
God made the forests, the tiny stars, and the wild winds-and I think that he made them partly as a balance for that kind of civilization that would choke the spirit of joy out of our hearts. He made the great open places for the people who want to be alone with him and talk to him, away from the crowds that kill all reverence. And I think that he is glad at times to have us forget our cares and responsibilities that we may be nearer him-as Jesus was when he crept away into the wilderness to pray.
Theres nothing half so pleasant as coming home again.
Books have been to me what gold is to the miser, what new fields are to the explorer.
The people who dream are very often the people who see, and dreaming and seeing precede doing.
Spring is beautiful, and summer is perfect for vacations, but autumn brings a longing to get away from the unreal things of life, out into the forest at night with a campfire and the rustling leaves.
On the day long after childhood when I suddenly heard of his death, the sky grew dark above my head. I was walking on a Southern highway, and a friend driving in a pony carriage passed me, stopped and said, "Have you heard that Charles Dickens is dead?" It was as if I had been robbed of one of my dearest friends.
I thank you, God, in Heaven, for friends.
Memory is a trustworthy servant as long as it is made to serve.
Not always the fanciest cake that's there Is the best to eat!
In very truth it is the unattained which gives zest to the commonplace and brims the cup of our daily life with keenest joy.
At Christmas-tide the open hand Scatters its bounty o'er sea and land, And none are left to grieve alone, For Love is heaven and claims its own.
I would not, if I could, give up the memory of the joy I have had in books for any advantage that could be offered in other pursuits or occupations. Books have been to me what gold is to the miser, what new fields are to the explorer.
Love turns all the wheels of human industry, is the motive power under the world's machinery, makes worthwhile every enterprise on the earth, is coequal with life, outlasts death, and reaches onward into heaven.
One of the first things to be noted in business life is its imperialism. Business is exacting, engrossing, and inelastic.
Self-complacen cy is fatal to progress.
Every child's birthright is a happy home.
... Love is heaven and claims its own.
