My grief and my smile begin in your face, my son.

I have a faithful joy and a joy that is lost. One is like a rose, the other, a thorn. The one that was stolen I have not lost.

Love that stammers, that stutters, is apt to be the love that loves best.

Let the radiance of my enthusiasms envelop the poor courtyard and the bare classroom. Let my heart be a stronger column and my goodwill purer gold than the columns and gold of rich schools.

Speech is our second possession, after the soul-and perhaps we have no other possession in this world.

Many things can wait. Children cannot. Today their bones are being formed, their blood is being made, their senses are being developed. To them we cannot say "tomorrow." Their name is today.

Love beauty it is the shadow of God on the universe