I'm as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady that walks into church, but it's not wrong to turn sometimes to the good St. Nicholas.

She waits for me, my lady Earth, Smiles and waits and sighs; I'll say her nay, and hide away, Then take her by surprise.

What a dreadful thing it must be to have a dull father.

Luxuries unfit us for returning to hardships easily endured before.

[On the Netherlands:] There is not a richer or more carefully tilled garden spot in the whole world than this leaky, springy little country.

I'm as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady that walks into church, but it's not wrong to turn sometimes to the good St. Nicholas.

Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn't doubt it, How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago.