History does nothing; it does not possess immense riches, it does not fight battles. It is men, real, living, who do all this.... ...It is not "history" which uses men as a means of achieving--as if it were an individual person--its own ends. History is nothing but the activity of men in pursuit of their ends.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The angel of the Family is Woman. Mother, wife, or sister, Woman is the caress of life, the soothing sweetness of affection shed o...ver its toils, a reflection for the individual of the loving providence which watches over Humanity. In her there is treasure enough of consoling tenderness to allay every pain. Moreover for every one of us she is the initiator of the future. The mother's first kiss teaches the child love; the first holy kiss of the woman he loves teaches man hope and faith in life; and love and faith create a desire for perfection and the power of reaching towards it step by step; create the future, in short, of which the living symbol is the child, link between us and the generations to come. Through her the Family, with its divine mystery of reproduction, points to Eternity.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
This "charity-house," as the wrecker called it, this "Humane house," as some call it, that is, the one to which we first came, had... neither window nor sliding shutter, nor clapboards, nor paint. As we have said, there was a rusty nail put through the staple. However, as we wished to get an idea of a Humane house, and we hoped that we should never have a better opportunity, we put our eyes, by turns, to a knot-hole in the door, and, after long looking, without seeing, into the dark,--not knowing how many shipwrecked men's bones we might see at last, looking with the eye of faith, knowing that, though to him that knocketh it may not always be opened, yet to him that looketh long enough through a knot-hole the inside shall be visible,--for we had had some practice at looking inward,--by steadily keeping our other ball covered from the light meanwhile, putting the outward world behind us, ocean and land, and the beach,--till the pupil became enlarged and collected the rays of light that were wandering in that dark (for the pupil shall be enlarged by looking; there was never so dark a night but a faithful and patient eye, however small, might at last prevail over it),--after all this, I say, things began to take shape to our vision,--if we may use this expression where there was nothing but emptiness,--and we obtained the long-wished-for insight. Though we thought at first that it was a hopeless case, after several minutes' steady exercise of the divine faculty, our prospects began steadily to brighten, and we were ready to exclaim with the blind bard of "Paradise Lost and Regained,"-- "Hail, holy Light! offspring of Heaven first-born, Or of the Eternal coeternal beam May I express thee unblamed?" A little longer, and a chimney rushed red on our sight. In short, when our vision had grown familiar with the darkness, we discovered that there were some stones and some loose wads of wool on the floor, and an empty fireplace at the further end; but it was not supplied with matches, or straw, or hay, that we could see, nor "accommodated with a bench." Indeed, it was the wreck of all cosmical beauty there within. Turning our backs on the outward world, we thus looked through the knot-hole into the Humane house, into the very bowels of mercy; and for bread we found a stone. It was literally a great cry (of sea-mews outside), and a little wool. However, we were glad to sit outside, under the lee of the Humane house, to escape the piercing wind; and there we thought how cold is charity! how inhumane humanity! This, then, is what charity hides! Virtues antique and far away, with ever a rusty nail over the latch; and very difficult to keep in repair, withal, it is so uncertain whether any will ever gain the beach near you. So we shivered round about, not being able to get into it, ever and anon looking through the knot-hole into that night without a star, until we concluded that it was not a humane house at all, but a seaside box, now shut up, belonging to some of the family of Night or Chaos, where they spent their summers by the sea, for the sake of the sea-breeze, and that it was not proper for us to be prying into their concerns.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Pessimists say that the family is eroding. Optimists say the family is diversifying. Both points of view are right. Families are m...ore diverse and they are more in trouble--but not because of their diversity. The families of today--whatever their size or shape--are in crisis because our economy is failing, our national resources are shrinking, and our governmental policies to support them are inadequate.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
... the aspiring immigrant ... is not content to progress alone. Solitary success is imperfect success in his eyes. He must take h...is family with him as he rises.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The naturalistic literature of this country has reached such a state that no family of characters is considered true to life which... does not include at least two hypochondriacs, one sadist, and one old man who spills food down the front of his vest.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I come from a long line of male chauvinists in a very traditional family. To rebel against my background, I didn't shoot dope--I m...arried a working woman.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »