One race there is of men, one of gods, but from one mother we both draw our breath.

He that raises a large family, does indeed, while he lives to observe them, stand…a broader mark for sorrow; but then he stands a broader mark for pleasure too. 

Mother died today. Or maybe it was yesterday, I don’t know. 

It’s frightening to think that you mark your children merely by being yourself… it seems unfair. You can’t assume the responsibility for everything you do—or don’t do.

The thing that impresses me most about America is the way parents obey their children.

My mother protected me from the world and my father threatened me with it.

Families, I hate you! Shut-in homes, closed doors, jealous possessions of happiness.

If parents would only realize how they bore their children!

Nobody, who has not been in the interior of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be.

By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.

Few sons are equal to their fathers; most fall short, all too few surpass them.