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.

When you have snowflakes in the clouds in the sky and you have mountains, you get snow. That's how it works.

'The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family.'

“If all the people in the world were nice could we just get rid of the word mean?”