No ornament of a house can compare with books; they are constant company in a room, even when you are not reading… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
“What poor, mean trash this whole business of human virtue is! A mere matter, for the most part, of latitude and longitude,… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
Just so sure as one puts on any old rag, and thinks nobody will come, company is sure to call. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
It lies around us like a cloud- A world we do not see; Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
I wrote what I did because as a woman, as a mother, I was oppressed and broken-hearted with the sorrows and injustice I saw,… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
Common sense is seeing things as they are; and doing things as they ought to be. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
Love needs new leaves every summer of life, as much as your elm-tree, and new branches to grow broader and wider, and new flowers… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
God has always been to me not so much like a father as like a dear and tender mother. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
If I am to write, I must have a room to myself, which shall be my room. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
The longest way must have its close - the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserved; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room, from… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
I am speaking now of the highest duty we owe our friends, the noblest, the most sacred - that of keeping their own nobleness,… — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
No ornament of a house can compare with books; they are constant company in a room, even when you are not reading them. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
The greater the interest involved in a truth the more careful, self-distrustful, and patient should be the inquiry. — Harriet Beecher Stowe Copy Share Image
