Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is a new creation, and combinations are simply endless.

Hoeing in the garden on a bright, soft May day, when you are not obligated to, is nearly equal to the delight of going trouting.

There is no beauty like that which was spoiled by an accident; no accomplishments and graces are so to be envied as those that circumstances rudely hindered the development of.

There is nothing that disgusts a man like getting beaten at chess by a woman.

Goodness comes out of people who bask in the sun, as it does out of a sweet apple roasted before the fire.

People always overdo the matter when they attempt deception.

To own a bit of ground, to scratch it with a hoe, to plant seeds, and watch the renewal of life - this is the commonest delight of the race, the most satisfactory thing a man can do.