Hoary-headed old Winter, I have had enough of you!

The term 'lady' has been so misused, that I like better the old-fashioned term, woman.

Oh! to be a child again. My only treasures, bits of shell and stone and glass. To love nothing but maple sugar. To fear nothing but a big dog. To go to sleep without dreading the morrow. To wake up with a shout. Not to have seen a dead face. Not to dread a living one. To be able to believe.

Everything in the country, animate and inanimate, seems to whisper, be serene, be kind, be happy. We grow tolerant there unconsciously.

To the Pilgrim Mothers, who not only had their full share of the hardships and privations of pioneer life but also had the Pilgrim Fathers to endure.

There are no little things. "Little things," so called, are the hinges of the universe.

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.