I go to a great many places; I go into one house and they cry, cry, cry,—somebody dead. I go into another, and it is all laugh, laugh—they are happy and glad. I go to another, it is all shut up dark, they move very softly, they speak in a whisper,—somebody very sick. I come here it is all, dance and sing, and flowers and wedding dresses. I say nothing; but it makes me think a great deal.
Memoir of Pierre Toussaint (1853)