Politics makes strange bedfellows.

The stranger who receives the rare gift of human kindness holds its value in his heart forever.

Nothing shows one who his friends are like prosperity and ripe fruit.

Nature is, in fact, a suggester of uneasiness, a promoter of pilgrimages and of excursions of the fancy which never come to any satisfactory haven.

Memory has the singular characteristic of recalling in a friend absent, as in a journey long past, only that which is agreeable.

A garden is an awful responsibility. You never know what you may be aiding to grow in it.

Politics makes strange bedfellows.