Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month seem only stirred to lamentation, giving us year end and 'melancholy days' remarks, thereby showing that… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
Why is it that so many people think that charity consists in giving away merely what they cannot use instead of the article the… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
what's the good of having news an' ye must coop it? It's like cold veal pie upon the chest for supper, the same being… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
Neither a garden nor a gardener can be made in one year, nor in one generation even. — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
I have always noticed that when people consider others eccentric, it is because they are reveling in some form of enjoyment that their critics… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
It doesn't so much matter what one loves. To love is the transfiguring thing. — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
even as human vitality is at its lowest ebb in the early morning, so it is with plant life in the early spring. — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
what is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty. — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
Mother love is invariably held sacred, as it should be, but why has father love never had its due? — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
Nature, when undisturbed, is never monotonous, you know. Even when using green, the most frequent color on her palette, she throws in contrasting tints… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
the various earth odors all have a separate tale to tell, and the leaf mold of the woods bears a wholly different fragrance from… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
That is the stimulus of nature; it is never, never old, and always developing. Even the scarred, wrinkled earth herself is a mere infant… — Mabel Osgood Wright Copy Share Image
