There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.
Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some chamomile tea: “One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime.
Thank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality.
All outward forms of religion are almost useless, and are the causes of endless strife. Believe there is a great power silently working all things for good, behave yourself and never mind the rest.
We cannot stay home all our lives, we must present ourselves to the world and we must look upon it as an adventure.
What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood?