The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.

You see, dear, it is not true that woman was made from man's rib; she was made from his funny bone.

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls.

If 'Hamlet' had been written in these days it would probably have been called 'The Strange Affair at Elsinore.

‎"She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.

One girl is worth more use than 20 boys.