Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.

When you have snowflakes in the clouds in the sky and you have mountains, you get snow. That's how it works.

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.

“If all the people in the world were nice could we just get rid of the word mean?”

'The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family.'