Mother love is invariably held sacred, as it should be, but why has father love never had its due?

what's the good of having news an' ye must coop it? It's like cold veal pie upon the chest for supper, the same being over old, under done, and dry o' gravy.

Imagine how terrifying it would be if we had to decide the beginnings of things for ourselves: as to what race we should belong, what sex, and all that, instead of placidly coming out of unconsciousness to find it all arranged!

Why is it that so many people think that charity consists in giving away merely what they cannot use instead of the article the recipient needs?

even as human vitality is at its lowest ebb in the early morning, so it is with plant life in the early spring.

in the city at best one lives the life of others, the life of the shop, the street, the crowd, while in the country one must live one's own life.

Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month seem only stirred to lamentation, giving us year end and 'melancholy days' remarks, thereby showing that theory is stronger than observation among the rhyming brotherhood, or else that they have chronic indigestion and no gardens to stimulate them.