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.

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.''

All I am, or can be, I owe to my angel mother.

“If we call these foothills, can we call the little trees 'foot trees?''' (While driving in the foothills.)