With Love To A Wonderful Mother [antikvár]

^heTetfectoMother Never was a woman more richly mother than this woman, bubbling over with a hundred little songs and scraps of gay nonsense to beguile a child from tears, and filled with wayward moods as she was, yet her hands were swift to tenderness and care and quiet brooding tending when need arose. Never was she more perfect mother than during the summers on the mountaintop when she could give herself freely to her children. She led them here and there in search of beauty, and she taught them to love cliffs and rugged rocks outlined against the sky, and to love also little dells where ferns and moss grow about a pool. Beauty she brought into her house, too, and filled the rooms with ferns and flowers. Pearl S. Buck he real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men — from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms. Oliver Wendell Holmes he many make the household. But only one the home. James Russell Lowell