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

They are the most painful tears in the world ... the tears of the aged ... for they come from dried beds where the emotions have long burned low.

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.

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

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

It takes a small town to keep you humble.

Sometime in their lives, everybody wanted to go home.