It was true, she thought, that the big things awe us but the little things touch us.

Love is the light that you see by.

Sometime in their lives, everybody wanted to go home.

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

Except for our higher order of minds we are like the little moles under the earth carrying out blindly the work of digging, thinking our own dark passage-ways constitute all there is to the world.

It was true, she thought, that the big things awe us but the little things touch us.

Junior was eleven. The statement is significant. There are a few peevish people in the world who believe that all eleven-year-old boys ought to be hung. Others, less irritable, think that gently chloroforming them would seem more humane. A great many good-natured folks contend that incarceration for a couple of years would prove the best way to dispose of them.