Except for our higher order of minds we are like the little moles under the earth carrying out blindly the work of digging, thinking our own dark passage-ways constitute all there is to the world.
BESS STREETER ALDRICHI think that love is more like a light that you carry. At first childish happiness keeps it lighted and after that romance. Then motherhood lights it and then duty . . . and maybe after that sorrow.
More Bess Streeter Aldrich Quotes
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Junior was eleven. The statement is significant. There are a few peevish people in the world who believe that all eleven-year-old boys ought to be hung. Others, less irritable, think that gently chloroforming them would seem more humane.
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They are the most painful tears in the world … the tears of the aged … for they come from dried beds where the emotions have long burned low.
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thoughts are acrobats, agile and quite often untrustworthy.
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In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler’s dream.
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not all clever words are true. … And inversely most things that are true are not clever.
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You wouldn’t think that sorrow could be a light, would you, dearie? But it can. And then after that, service lights it. Yes. . . . I think that is what love is to a woman . . . a lantern in her hand.
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The greatest antidote in the world for grief is work, and the necessity of work.
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There is no division nor subtraction in the heart-arithmetic of a good mother. There are only addition and multiplication.
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Sometime in their lives, everybody wanted to go home.
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It was true, she thought, that the big things awe us but the little things touch us.
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Love is the light that you see by.
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Katherine it was who took upon herself the complete charge of [Junior’s] speech. Not an insignificant “have went” nor an infinitesimal
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Things last so much longer than people.
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Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body. It warmed your heart…filled it, too, with melody that would last forever.
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Mrs. Schneiderman’s theory of life was that earth held no sorrow that food could not heal.
BESS STREETER ALDRICH