Youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.

It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter.

It is a strange thing to read a letter after the writer is dead - a bitter-sweet thing, in which pain and comfort are strangely mingled.

We came to the comforting conclusion that the Creator probably knew how to run His universe quite as well as we do, and that, after all, there are no such things as 'wasted' lives, saving and except when am individual wilfully squanders and wastes his own life.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

We don't know where we're going, but isn't is fun to go?

Nothing ever seems impossible in spring, you know.