The saints differ from us in their exuberance, the excess of our human talents. Moderation is not their secret. It is in the wildness of their dreams, the desperate vitality of their ambitions, that they stand apart from ordinary people of good will.

Marriage was all a woman's idea and for man's acceptance of the pretty yoke, it becomes us to be grateful.

When blithe to argument I come, Though armed with facts, and merry, May Providence protect me from The fool as adversary, Whose mind to him a kingdom is Where reason lacks dominion, Who calls conviction prejudice And prejudice opinion.

Praise is warming and desirable. But it is an earned thing. It has to be deserved, like a hug from a child.

I have read that during the process of canonization the Catholic Church demands proof of joy in the candidate, and although I have not been able to track down chapter and verse I like the suggestion that dourness is not a sacred attribute.

History must always be taken with a grain of salt. It is, after all, not a science but an art.

Scratch any father, you find / Someone chock-full of qualms and romantic terrors, / Believing change is a threat.