In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's.

Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.

I tell you there isn't a thing under the sun that needs to be done at all, but what a man can do better than a woman, unless it's bearing children, and they do that in a poor make-shift way; it had better ha been left to the men.

Beauty is part of the finished language by which goodness speaks.

One way of getting an idea of our fellow-countrymen's miseries is to go and look at their pleasures.

I've never any pity for conceited people, because I think they carry their comfort about with them.

Few things hold the perception more thoroughly captive than anxiety about what we have got to say