Oh, heart, let's never grow too old To smile anew, when Christmas comes, At tassels red and tinsel thread, And tarlatan bags f sugarplums. — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall; On quiet hinges it gives, at dusk When the thrushes call. Along the lintel are green leaves, Beyond, the light lies still; Very weary and willing feet Go over… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“Distinctively gentle he was, and trustworthy, and of special courtesy. His great physical strength was never used in combat, men remembered, except when needed… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“She saw at last that her strange son was fired by some purpose which he would carry out or die. Seeing that, she finally… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“It is safe to say that not all the cooking and sewing and farm management of an entire year signified as much hard work… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“The trouble is, we are incurable sentimentalists. We insist on makin over historical characters to suit our preconceived notions of what they should be,… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
Under our thatch, friend, place shall abide for you, touch but the latch, friend, the door will swing wide for you! — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“But this woman was all mother. A stern one, perhaps, and autocratic at times, and somewhat hard--but after all and in spite of all,… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall; On quiet hinges it gives, at dusk When the thrushes call. Along the… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
The Bookshop has a thousand books, All colors, hues, and tinges, And every cover is a door That turns on magic hinges. — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
“By nature and by training this woman was all for conservation of life. She had been brought up in rather a strict and narrow… — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
Oh, heart, let's never grow too old To smile anew, when Christmas comes, At tassels red and tinsel thread, And tarlatan bags f sugarplums. — Nancy Byrd Turner Copy Share Image
