Politics Were As Bad As Mathematics, And

…for No Matter How Lost And Soiled And Worn-out Wandering Sons May Be, Mothers Can Forgive And Forget Every Thing As They Fold Them Into Their Fostering Arms. Happy The Son Whose Faith In His Mother Remains Unchanged, And Who, Through All His Wanderings, Has Kept Some Filial Token To Repay Her Brave And Tender Love.

Simple, Sincere People Seldom Speak Much Of Their Piety; It Shows Itself In Acts Rather Than Words, And Has More Influence Than Homilies Or Protestations.

[she Was] Kept There In The Sort Of Embrace A Man Gives To The Dearest Creature The World Holds For Him.

Help One Another Is Part Of The Religion Of Our Sisterhood.

The Moment Aunt March Took Her Nap, Or Was Busy With Company, Jo Hurried To This Quiet Place, And Curling Herself Up In The Easy Chair, Devoured Poetry, Romance, History, Travels, And Pictures Like A Regular Bookworm.