I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, b… - Robert Louis Stevenson

And no doubt it is easy thus to circumvent a child with catchwords, but it may be questioned how far it is effectual. An instinct in his breast detects the quibble, and a voice condemns it. He will instantly submit, privately hold the same opinion. For even in this simple and antique relation of the mother and the child, hypocrisies are multiplied.

Books are good enough in their own way but they are a mighty bloodless substitute for life.

In winter I get up at night,
and dress by yellow candlelight,
In summer, quite the other day,
I have to go to bed by day