When Father smiled, it was like the sun coming out, and spring and summer in your heart.

the tentacles of today reach out like an octopus to swallow yesterday.

Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.

History records the large events or the general condition of society, but only an individual can put down the way of life in a small town.

The creative instincts, the love force must be nourished with every beat of our hearts until they overbalance the destructive instincts.

When Father smiled, it was like the sun coming out, and spring and summer in your heart.

nothing decorates a home like books. There they are, waiting to decorate the mind, too!