My son, a perfect little boy of five years and three months, had ended his earthly life. You can never sympathize with me; you can never know how much of me such a young child can take away. A few weeks ago I accounted myself a very rich man, and now the poorest of all. […]

We find a delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body.

A low selflove in the parent desires that his child should repeat his character and fortune… I suffer whenever I see that common sight of a parent or senior imposing his opinion and way of thinking and being on a young soul to which they are totally unfit. Cannot we let people be themselves, and […]

The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child.

In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth.

Children are all foreigners.

A child is a curly, dimpled lunatic.

Infancy is the perpetual Messiah, which comes into the arms of fallen men, and pleads with them to return to paradise.

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep.