I dare say there's many a woman makes as sad a mistake as I have done, and only finds it out too late.

When prayers were ended, and his Mother had wished him good-night with that long steady look of hers which conveyed no expression of the tenderness that was in her heart, but yet had all the intensity of a blessing.

She freshens me up above a bit. Who'd ha thought that face - as bright and as strong as the angel I dream of - could have known the sorrow she speaks on? I wonder how she'll sin. All on us must sing.

As she realized what might have been, she grew to be thankful for what was.

I know you despise me; allow me to say, it is because you don't understand me.

Of all faults the one she most despised in others was the want of bravery; the meanness of heart which leads to untruth.

All the earth, though it were full of kind hearts, is but a desolation and desert place to a mother when her only child is absent.