“It is safe to say that not all the cooking and sewing and farm management of an entire year signified as much hard work as the job of keeping those five children alive for a month. Their mother did it,… — 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, intensely maternal. She did not look to large, far issues, nor did she know how to… — 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
