Bess Streeter Aldrich Quotes
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...Uncle Harry Wentworth's dollar was turned deep under the sod. But though the sun shone on it and the rain fell, nothing ever came from it,—not a green thing nor a singing thing nor a human soul.
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For some reason little Laura Deal continued to be Abbie's favorite grandchild. The little girl answered Abbie's deep love for her with an affection equally sincere,—or perhaps it was the other way. Perhaps the fact that Laura held such admiration for her grandnmother enkindled its answer in Abbie's heart. From the time Laura was five she had brought her grandmother little stories of her own composition. Abbie had them all in safe keeping, just as she had everything else which had ever come into her possession.
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It was queer how it all hurt you--how the odor of the night, the silver sheen of the moon, the moist feeling of the dew, the whispering of the night breeze, how somewhere down in your throat it hurt you.
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Poor Christine! She had long ago spent the days of her young motherhood in the marketplace, and now that they were all squandered, she had so few pleasant things left to remember. So she crouched low over the dull embers of a few half-memories in order to warm her old heart.
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It is better to remember our love as it was in the springtime.
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Mrs. Schneiderman's theory of life was that earth held no sorrow that food could not heal.
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Sometime in their lives, everybody wanted to go home.
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And so they discussed it seriously, Abbie who knew that one may laugh with a child but at him, and Laura, who knew that Grandma was one unfailing source of sympathy and understanding in a world which was beginning to be critical.
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You can't describe love, Kathie, and you can't define it. Only it goes with you all your life. I 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. 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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...Laura knew the price of motherhood to be pain and responsibility; the reward, love and pride.
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If the faith of all the mothers could blossom to its full fruition, there would be no unsuccessful men in the land.
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In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler's dream.
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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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Then she laughed, a bubbling, deliciously girlish laugh, and the Thing relaxed its hold on her heart, turned up its toes, and died.
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The wheels where enormous wooden affairs, the back ones rounding up over the windows of the coach.
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Things last so much longer than people.
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You have to dream things out. It keeps a kind of an ideal before you. You see it first in your mind and then you set about to try and make it like the ideal. If you want a garden,-why, I guess you've got to dream a garden.
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Part of Mother went with them. It is an acrobatic feat that only mothers can understand, this ability to be with every child.
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Contentment lay in the place they had made for each other and for the children.
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Aunt Grace was leaving.... Looking after her a moment, Laura had another feeling of tenderness toward her. How we live our lives side by side with those whom we never know or understand.