Home should be an oratorio of the memory, singing to all our after life melodies and harmonies of old-remembered joy.
Henry Ward BeecherWhen a man can look upon the simple wild-rose, and feel no pleasure, his taste has been corrupted.
Henry Ward BeecherThere is no slave out of heaven like a loving woman; and of all loving women, there is no such slave as a mother.
Henry Ward Beecher