Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.

In a world where there is so much to be done, I felt strongly impressed that there must be something for me to do.

The comfortable and comforting people are those who look upon the bright side of life; gathering its roses and sunshine and making the most that happens seem the best.

For in all the world there are no people so piteous and forlorn as those who are forced to eat the bitter bread of dependency in their old age, and find how steep are the stairs of another man's house. Wherever they go they know themselves unwelcome. Wherever they are, they feel themselves a burden. There is no humiliation of the spirit they are not forced to endure. Their hearts are scarred all over with the stabs from cruel and callous speeches.

It is only the women whose eyes have been washed clear with tears who get the broad vision that makes them little sisters to all the world.

Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.

There isn't a single human being who hasn't plenty to cry over, and the trick is to make the laughs outweigh the tears.