These and other questions flog my mind.
Men say I am moody, they say I am a man of mystery. If I am mysterious at times it is because I seek answers. I demand answers. Only fools accept the face of things. Men weary of my tales and my humor as I hunt for enlightenment for this troubled country. It is my duty to care more than anyone, and humor and satire have an influence not to be scorned.
The White House
September 15, 1863
If I were home my fat Filibuster would shove his whiskers into my face and meow. He loved to be scratched...he was Robert’s pet but when I lay on the floor of the parlor to read he would stretch out beside me. I’d scratch him and try to go on with my reading.
I would like to have supper tonight in my shirt sleeves, and answer the doorbell in my carpet slippers.
I would like to hear Mary scolding the iceman, as he tries, once more, to overcharge her.
How well she managed our house, penny-wise always. How well she attended the children. She found time to help the poor; was never too busy to chat with a neighbor.