there was nothing in the whole world so dreadful as the power of riches wrongly used.

To my way of thinking and working, the greatest service a piece of fiction can do any reader is to leave him with a higher ideal of life than he had when he began. If in one small degree it shows him where he can be...gentler, saner, cleaner, kindlier...it is a wonder-working book. If it opens his eyes to one beauty in nature he never saw for himself and leads him one step toward the God of the Universe, it is a beneficial book.

If you are lazy, and accept your lot, you may live in it. If you are willing to work, you can write your name anywhere you choose.

Now what is a guest? A thing of a day! A person who disturbs your routine and interferes with important concerns. Why should any one be grateful for company? Why should time and money be lavished on visitors? They come. You overwork yourself. They go. You are glad of it. You return the visit, because it's the only way to have back at them.

there was nothing in the whole world so dreadful as the power of riches wrongly used.

the occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migration, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing.

What was money that it should make such dreadful things of men and women?