It Is Not Of So Much Consequence

In The Entire Circle Of The Year There Are No Days So Delightful As Those Of A Fine October.

Christmas Is The Day That Holds All Time Together.

Love Is But The Discovery Of Ourselves In Others, And The Delight In The Recognition.

Death Is The Ugly Fact Which Nature Has To Hide, And She Hides It Well.

There Is A Slow-growing Beauty Which Only Comes To Perfection In Old Age.... I Have Seen Sweeter Smiles On A Lip Of Seventy Than I Ever Saw On A Lip Of Seventeen. There Is The Beauty Of Youth, And There Is Also The Beauty Of Holiness—a Beauty Much More Seldom Met; And More Frequently Found In The Arm-chair By The Fire, With Grandchildren Around Its Knee, Than In The Ball-room Or The Promenade.