Who that has grown to maturity in an old homestead, which is full of sweet memories, does not long to live her young life over, if only in dreams. Memories are so registered on our immortal-mind, that they become an eternal part of us. A familiar spot by the sea, a winding path through the woods, a book, a faded flower, a golden-tress, a glove,—all these and numberless more hallowed memories, big and little, hold some cherished place in our inmost-heart, bringing us back golden moments through the many years. They are all sacred moments which have been breathed upon by our very soul.
Memories of Home by Ruth Van Saun