I think that love is more like a light that you carry. At first childish happiness keeps it lighted and after that romance. Then motherhood lights it and then duty... and maybe after that sorrow. You wouldn't think that sorrow could be a light, would you, dearie? But it can. And then after that, service lights it. Yes.... I think that is what love is to a woman... a lantern in her hand.

The Bess Streeter Aldrich reader (ed. 1950)