Missent Quotes

“Now with this revelation, there comes to me a new sense of the divine overruling Power that shapes our lives. Do you not think, dearest, that our Father in heaven must have meant us for each other all the years, and so shaped these common matters as to bring us together? Who but He could have arranged such a network of life out of seeming trivialities? My dearest, we will give our lives anew to Him, shall we not? And we will account nothing trivial, and no smallest act or thought of ours as beneath His guidance and direction.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“What an inextricable and hopeless mix life would be if we had to manage it! How do the people who do not believe in an overruling Providence contrive to live at all?”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“The little woman was herself a sincere and earnest Christian. She rejoiced beyond measure over the fact that the lines had at last fallen to her in a Christian home. Morning and evening the son Richard, with the family gathered about him, read a few verses from the Bible and led in a heartfelt prayer for guidance and safekeeping. These daily gatherings were like fresh springs of comfort to Miss Stafford’s thirsty soul; she had so long been tossed about the world from hotel to boarding-house that to have dropped by what the world would call an accident, but what she hugged to her heart as a blessed providence, into the very centre of this sweet Christian home, was to her a daily cause for thanksgiving. She looked forward, only her own heart knew how sorrowfully, to the time, steadily approaching, when she must go out from it and find a new resting-place.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“Three hundred and sixty-five days— Golden days! Opportunity? Privilege? Praise? Grateful praise; Shall this be the story of the year? Happy year! Only One, the future knows, Fully knows; All its hopes, its aims, its woes; But—He knows. Trust Him, dear, then the story Waiting here, Shall be shining with the glory Of His cheer.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“This last thought took such possession of her conscience as to give her no peace, and by three o’clock of a fine December day Miss Stafford might have been seen stepping from a car at the corner of Kirkland Row, a short cross street that separated two great thoroughfares and. seemed to be almost entirely given up to physicians. At least, as Miss Stafford gazed at the doors she was amazed to see rows of placards announcing the office hours of any number of “Physicians and Surgeons.” “Dear me!” she said, as she passed the dozenth announcement of the kind. “It can’t be that any of the people on this street are ever ill; or else they all are, always. I wonder why the doctors huddle together in this way? So that if the one sought happens to be out, the luck may chance to fall on one of the others, I suppose.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“She had had such friends. Heaven was growing into a very wealthy place for her. Mother and father not only, and sisters, and one precious brother. But a nearer one yet than all others, one whose name she was to have borne, had, within three weeks of the day when she was to have become his bride, crossed over to the other side and left her desolate. But that was twenty years ago. Miss Stafford lived to realize that young, healthy people do not die of grief, however much they might at times desire to do so.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“At that moment her eyes rested on a certain leather-bound volume that had broken its sides, and she reached for it. “Have your thoughts been too much for you, old friend?” she said, “and burst through the leather at last? I don’t remember this book. It must have been one of Aunt Jane’s collection. I ought to have a catalogue of my books; I don’t remember half of them.”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter

“Poor old things! How many interesting events you have been tucked away from! But, on the other hand, what a lot of boring you have escaped, or would have escaped, if you were human beings instead of only thoughts. I don’t know what I am ever to do with all my books!”
― Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter