There Is Perfect Love In Heaven!

You Cannot Expect Stone To Be As Pliable As Clay.

You May Think It All Very Fine, Mr. Huntingdon, To Amuse Yourself With Rousing My Jealousy; But Take Care You Don't Rouse My Hate Instead. And When You Have Once Extinguished My Love, You Will Find It No Easy Matter To Kindle It Again.

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.

[preface To Second Edition:] ... I Am Satisfied That If A Book Is A Good One, It Is So Whatever The Sex Of The Author May Be.

If You Would Have Your Son To Walk Honourably Through The World, You Must Not Attempt To Clear The Stones From His Path, But Teach Him To Walk Firmly Over Them - Not Insist Upon Leading Him By The Hand, But Let Him Learn To Go Alone.