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

Lord, I do not ask that Thou shouldst give me wealth; only show me where it is, and I will attend to the rest.

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 I haven't anything to write, I am just as anxious to 'take my pen in hand' as though I had a message to deliver, a cause to plead, or a problem to unfold. Nothing but writing rests me; only then do I seem completely myself!

It is very funny, but you do not always have to see people to love them. Just think about it, and see if it isn't so.

To let blessed babies go dangling and dawdling without names, for months and months, was enough to ruin them for life.

the habit of generalizing from one particular, that mainstay of the cheap and obvious essayist, has rooted many fictions in the public eye. Nothing, for example can blot from my memory the profound, searching, and exhaustive analysis of a great nation which I learned in my small geography when I was a child, namely, 'The French are a gay and polite people fond of dancing and light wines.