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

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.

'Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.'

Every man sees in his relatives, and especially in his cousins, a series of grotesque caricatures of himself.

“If we call these foothills, can we call the little trees 'foot trees?''' (While driving in the foothills.)