I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.—­Dickens.

They are idols of hearts and of households;
They are angels of God in disguise;
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses;
His glory still gleams in their eyes. 
Oh those truants from home and from heaven,
They have made me more manly and mild,
And I know now how Jesus could liken
The kingdom of God to a child. 
—­Dickens.

The child is father of the man. 
—­Wordsworth.

The smallest children are nearest to God, as the smallest planets are nearest the sun.—­Richter.

In trying to teach children a great deal in a short time, they are treated not as though the race they were to run was for life, but simply a three-mile heat.—­Horace Mann.

Childhood shows the man
As morning shows the day. 
—­Milton.

Be very vigilant over thy child in the April of his understanding, lest the frost of May nip his blossoms.  While he is a tender twig, straighten him; whilst he is a new vessel, season him; such as thou makest him, such commonly shalt thou find him.  Let his first lesson be obedience, and his second shall be what thou wilt.—­Quarles.

A child is an angel dependent on man.—­Count de MAISTRE.

A child’s eyes, those clear wells of undefiled thought—­what on earth can be more beautiful?  Full of hope, love and curiosity, they meet your own.  In prayer, how earnest; in joy, how sparkling; in sympathy, how tender!  The man who never tried the companionship of a little child has carelessly passed by one of the great pleasures of life, as one passes a rare flower without plucking it or knowing its value.—­Mrs. Norton.

If a boy is not trained to endure and to bear trouble, he will grow up a girl; and a boy that is a girl has all a girl’s weakness without any of her regal qualities.  A woman made out of a woman is God’s noblest work; a woman made out of a man is his meanest.—­Beecher.

Children are the keys of Paradise.
* * * They alone are good and wise,
Because their thoughts, their very lives are prayer. 

          
                          —­Stoddard.

Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may bloom forth.—­Douglas Jerrold.

Many children, many cares; no children, no felicity.—­Bovee.

If there is anything that will endure
The eye of God because it still is pure,
It is the spirit of a little child,
Fresh from His hand, and therefore undefiled. 
Nearer the gate of Paradise than we,
Our children breathe its airs, its angels see;
And when they pray, God hears their simple prayer,
Yea, even sheathes His sword, in judgment bare. 

                                    —­Stoddard.