Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.

'A duck!... A baby duck.' (Squealing about a birthday card on her third birthday on Puerta Vallarta, Mexico.

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.)

Family life is too intimate to be preserved by the spirit of justice. It can be sustained by a spirit of love which goes beyond justice.