Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
Helen Hunt JacksonThe wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament. . . . Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.
Helen Hunt JacksonI shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.
Helen Hunt Jackson