I think that love is more like a light that you carry. At first childish happiness keeps it lighted and after that romance. Then motherhood lights it and then duty . . . and maybe after that sorrow. You wouldn't think that sorrow could be a light, would you, dearie? But it can. And then after that, service lights it. Yes. . . . I think that is what love is to a woman . . . a lantern in her hand.

In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler's dream.

Some girls are apparently born with dates; some through much personal activity, achieve them; but others seem by necessity to have dates thrust upon them.

not all clever words are true. ... And inversely most things that are true are not clever.

When I was young I had no means or time, and now I have the means and time, I have no youth.

Regardless of the popular literary trend of the times, write the thing which lies close to your heart.

There is no division nor subtraction in the heart-arithmetic of a good mother. There are only addition and multiplication.