I suppose there is something in all of us that harks back to the soil. When you come to think of it, what are picnics but outcroppings of instinct? No one really enjoys them or expects to enjoy them, but with the first warm days some prehistoric instinct takes us out into the woods, to fry potatoes over a strangling wood fire or spend the next week getting grass stains out of our clothes. It must be instinct; every atom of intelligence warns us to stay at home near the refrigerator.

Curious, how one remembered Christmas. Perhaps because other days might appeal to the head, but this one appealed to the heart.

We are often miserable at our desk or typewriters, but not happy away from them.

It was said of Miss Letitia that when money came into her possession it went out of circulation.

Used to move so much, every time the chickens saw the team put in the wagon, they'd lie down on their backs and hold their legs up to be tied!

I began to feel that if religion was either an illusion or a revelation, it was simpler to accept it as an illusion.

I never saw a lawyer yet who would admit he was making money.