There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.

The old stage coach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail. The hills were many, and the reins lay loosely in his hands as he lolled back in his seat and extended one foot and leg luxuriously over the dashboard. His brimmed hat of worn felt was well pulled over his eyes, and revolved a quid of tobacco in his left cheek.

Bear figs for a season or two, and the world outside the orchard is very unwilling you should bear thistles.

Why is it that the people with whom one loves to be silent are also the very ones with whom one loves to talk?

If you make children happy now, you will make them happy twenty years hence by the memory of it.

There are some who possess the magic touch, the infectious spirit of enthusiasm; who have the same effect as a beautiful morning that never reaches noon. Under this spell one's mind is braced, one's spirit recreated; one is ready for any adventure, even if it only be the doing of the next distasteful task light-heartedly.

There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.