Christmas is not a date. It is a state of mind.

There is no substitute for books in the life of a child.

Christmas is not a date. It is a state of mind.

Whatever laudable qualities the English may possess in their selection, preparation, and consumption of food, elegance, originality, diversity, and imagination are not among them.

To lovers of the long and intricate history of language the disuse and final death of certain words is a matter of regret. Yet every age bears witness to the inevitableness of such loss.

Manual labor to my father was not only good and decent for it's own sake but, as he was given to saying, it straightened out one's thoughts.

Suffering without understanding in this life is a heap worse than suffering when you have at least the grain of an idea what it's all for.