Once in an age God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us, not a false-imagining, an unreal character, but looking through the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our nature,--loves, not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.

There are two classes of human beings in this world: one class seem made to give love, and the other to take it.

Eyes that have never wept cannot comprehend sorrow.

Just so sure as one puts on any old rag, and thinks nobody will come, company is sure to call.

the temperaments of children are often as oddly unsuited to parents as if capricious fairies had been filling cradles with changelings.

Once in an age God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us, not a false-imagining, an unreal character, but looking through the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our nature,--loves, not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.

The human heart yearns for the beautiful in all ranks of life. The beautiful things that God makes are His gift to all alike. I know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling and a keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are too hard pressed to procure it any gratification.