Mrs. Schneiderman's theory of life was that earth held no sorrow that food could not heal.

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

Things last so much longer than people.

A person may encircle the globe with mind open only to bodily comfort. Another may live his life on a sixty-foot lot and listen to the voices of the universe.

Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body. It warmed your heart...filled it, too, with melody that would last forever.

The greatest antidote in the world for grief is work, and the necessity of work.

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.