“Polly tried to conquer the bad feeling; but it worried her, till she remembered something her mother once said to her: "When you feel out of sorts, try to make someone else happy, and you will soon be so yourself.”

“It’s genius simmering, perhaps. I’ll let it simmer, and see what comes of it,” he said, with a secret suspicion all the while that it wasn’t genius, but something far more common. Whatever it was, it simmered to some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory life, began to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that everyone who loved music was not a composer.”

“The clocks were striking midnight and the rooms were very still as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlid here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter.”

“Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to keep a secret…”

“I don't think secrets agree with me, I feel rumpled up in mind since you told me that…”

“…in silence learned the sweet solace which affection administers to sorrow.”

“Don't try to make me grow up before my time…”

“…possessed of that indescribable charm called grace.”

“I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it's good for me…”

“I like good strong words that mean something…”

“It takes so little to make a child happy, that it is a pity in a world full of sunshine and pleasant things, that there should be any wistful faces, empty hands, or lonely little hearts.”