…she Rejoiced As Only Mothers

Mrs. Jo Did Not Mean The Measles, But That More Serious Malady Called Love, Which Is Apt To Ravage Communities, Spring And Autumn, When Winter Gayety And Summer Idleness Produce Whole Bouquets Of Engagements, And Set Young People To Pairing Off Like The Birds.

I Often Think Flowers Are The Angels' Alphabet Whereby They Write On Hills And Fields Mysterious And Beautiful Lessons For Us To Feel And Learn.

Men Are Always Ready To Die For Us, But Not To Make Our Lives Worth Having. Cheap Sentiment And Bad Logic.

...for A Girl With Eyes Like Hers Has A Will And Is Not Ruled By Anyone But A Lover.

…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.