Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.

Contentment is not happiness. An oyster may be contented. Happiness is compounded of richer elements.

Even when we fancy we have grown wiser, it is only, it may be, that new prejudices have displaced old ones.

To cultivate a garden is. . . to go hand in hand with Nature in some of her most beautiful processes, to learn something of her choicest secrets, and to have a more intelligent interest awakened in the beautiful order of her works elsewhere.

Living with a saint is more grueling than being one.

Rejecting the miracles of Christ, we still have the miracle of Christ Himself.

Earth took her shining station as a star, In Heaven's dark hall, high up the crowd of worlds.