p16: "If we are feeling uncomfortable from any cause, we have no right, according to the law of love, to diffuse our uncomfortableness through the household. If we are in any unhappy mood, in which we cannot suppress the ill-humor, we have no right to vent it in the circle of our loved ones, and would far better go to our own room, or out into the fresh air, alone, somewhere, and stay till we have gotten back our sweet spirit again, so that we can scatter roses, not thorns, among our loved ones."
p22: "Few things we can do in this world are so well worth doing as the making of a beautiful and happy home. He who does this builds a sanctuary for God and opens a fountain of blessing for men. Far more than we know do the strength and beauty of our lives depend upon the home in which we dwell. He who goes forth in the morning from a happy, loving, prayerful home, into the world's strife, temptation, struggle, and duty, is strong - inspired for noble and victorious living. The children who are brought up in a true home go out trained and equipped for life's battles and tasks, carrying in their hearts a secret of strength which will make them brave and loyal to God, and will keep them pure in the world's sorest temptations."
p24: "Let us live more for our homes. Let us love one another more. Let us cease to complain, criticize and contradict each other. Let us be more patient with each other's faults. Let us not keep back the warm loving words that lie in our hearts until it is too late for them to give comfort. Soon separations will come. One of every wedded pair will stand by the other's coffin and grave. Then every bitter word spoken, and every neglect of love's duty, will be as a thorn in the heart.
Thomas Carlyle, that gifted author, when he passed the spot where he had last seen his wife alive, would bare his old head in wind or rain, his features wrung with bitter, unavailing sorrow. 'Oh', he would say, 'if I could see her but for five minutes, to assure her that I really cared for her throughout all that time! But she never knew it - she never knew it!
We must give account for our idle silences as well as for our idle words.
Comfort one another,
With the hand-claps close and tender,
With the sweetness love can render,
And looks of friendly eyes.
Do not wait with grace unspoken,
While life's daily bread is broken;
Gentle speech is oft like manna from the skies."