“When a woman's face is wrinkledAnd her hairs are sprinkled, With gray, Lackaday!Aside she's cast, No one respect will pay;Remember, Lasses, remember.And while the sun shines make hay:You must not expect in December, The flowers you gathered in May.”

“The midsummer sun shines but dim, The fields strive in vain to look gay; But when I am happy in Him December's as pleasant as May.”

“As Prairie Flower faced the rising sun and braided her hair,White Eagle strolled by. He had glanced her way many times. Today he stopped. "Howling Wolf did not come to check on his ponies this morning.""He sleeps."White Eagle smirked. He reached up to touch one of her braids. "If I had such a beautiful woman in my tepee, I would not sleep while she braids her own hair." He walked on without a backward glance. But Prairie Flower thought of him often that day.Each time his face appeared in her mind, she tried to force it away,but Howling Wolf's insolent smile was often replaced by the handsome face of White Eagle.”

“Ah!' said David, twiddling his fingers with glee as she poured him a cup. 'May the sun shine upon your splendid bosom in all eight kingdoms, Sarah lass!”

“I always remembered what she looked like, the dried apple face, the silvery gray hair, the snapping blue eyes.”

“Make it happen while the sun shines, girl.”