A secret at home is like rocks under tide.

A perfect marriage is as rare as a perfect love. Could it be otherwise, when both men and women are so imperfect? Could aught else be expected? Yet all do expect it.

One cannot make oneself, but one can sometimes help a little in the making of somebody else. It is well.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

It is astonishing what a lot of odd minutes one can catch during the day, if one really sets about it.

We expect too much from our children. We exact from them a perfection which we are far from carrying out in ourselves; we require of them sacrifices much heavier, comparatively, than those of any grown-up person.

For truly, the greatest of all external blessings is it to be able to lean your heart against another heart, faithful, tender, true, and tried, and record with a thankfulness that years deepen instead of diminishing, "I have got a friend!"