[S]o you plant your own garden and nourish your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers…. – Veronica Shoffstall, “After a While,” as posted in Dear Abby
What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. – John Bunyan
Were we any different? I think not, papa; for I recollect very well that I used to try to peep through the key-hole on Christmas Eve, and was greatly vexed that my good mother always hung a cloth before it. – C.C. Shackford, “Christmas Eve in Germany,” c.1870, from the German
