Quotes from Ruskin Bond

I have signed books in the names of Enid Blyton, R.K. Narayan, Ian Botham, Daniel Defoe, Harry Potter and the Swiss Family Robinson. No one seems to mind.

And when all the wars are done,' I said, 'a butterfly will still be beautiful.

I do not mind difficulties, as long as they are new difficulties.

Of what use is a poppy in a cornfield? Of what use is a rainbow? Of what use are you, numbskull? Wretch! I, too, have a soul. I want the umbrella, because-because I want its beauty to be mine!

had noticed, on the previous day, that a number of stray dogs—belonging to watchmen, villagers and forest guards—always hung about the house, waiting for scraps of food to be thrown away.

The deer's life is over, but he has not lived in fear of death. It is only man's imagination and fear of the hereafter that makes him afraid of meeting death.

All men are my friends. I have only to meet them.

Take any path and hope for the best. At least it will lead you out of the shadows.

There is skill in all things, even in making porridge. Dry bread at home is better than curried prawns abroad. Eating and drinking should not keep men from thinking. Better a small fish than an empty dish. Let not your tongue cut your throat. I

Small wayside stations have always fascinated me. Manned sometimes by just one or two railway employees, and often situated in the middle of a damp subtropical forest, or clinging to the mountainside on the way to Simla or Darjeeling, these little stations are, for me, outposts of romance, lonely symbols of the pioneering spirit that led men to lay tracks into the remote corners of the earth.

It's the simple things in life that keep us from going crazy: a pigeon in the skylight, sunshine, birdsong, the bedside book, the potted geranium…

We must move on, of course. There's no point in hankering after distant pleasures and lost picture palaces. But there's no harm in indulging in a little nostalgia. What is nostalgia, after all, but an attempt to preserve that which was good in the past? And

Christie, in particular, was a great one for the locked room mystery. The victim retires to his room, the door is locked from within, nothing has been forced open and yet the person has been shot or stabbed or clubbed to death. How did this happen? The question has been answered in various ingenious ways, usually involving a brilliant detective who can pick out clues the way you and I never could.

Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday: This is the end of Solomon Grundy.

would readily

Almost always, it's the unexpected that delights us, that takes us by the throat and gives us a good shaking, leaving us gaping in wonder.

As we journey through the world, we must inevitably encounter meanness and selfishness. As we fight for our survival, the higher visions and ideals often fade. It is then that we need ladybirds! Contemplating that tiny creature, or the flower on which it rests, gives one the hope—better, the certainty—that there is more to life than interest rates, dividends, market forces, and infinite technology.

There's a great affinity between trees and men.We grow at much the same pace, if we are not hurt or starved or cut down. In our youth we are resplendent creatures, and in our declining years we stoop a little, we remember,we stretch our brittle limbs in the sun,and then,with a sigh,we shed our last leaves.

Being a misfit in a group of boisterous party-goers can be a lonely experience. But being alone as a matter of choice is one of life's pleasures.

He called me 'Uncle', although I was only some fifteen or sixteen years older than him. Call a tiger 'Uncle', and he won't harm you; or so the forest-dwellers say. Not quite how it works out with people approaching middle age. Being addressed as 'Uncle' didn't make me very fond of Sunil.

For a room without a view is hardly a living place—merely a place of transit.

In fact, I judge a driver by the amount of abuse he gets from other drivers. If, in the course of a day's journey, his sister or mother is insulted on at least six occasions, then I begin to suspect that there is something wrong with the way he drives. If he returns the insults tenfold, I ask him to stop, and get off before we are assaulted.

Marriage,' said Oscar Wilde, 'is a romance in which the hero dies in the first chapter.' Uncle Bertie made his exit in the Preface.

provides the right sort of tone and setting. Mr Oliver, an Anglo