Quotes from Stella Gibbons

By the way, I adore my bedroom, but do you think I could have the curtains washed? I believe they are red; and I should so like to make sure.' Judith had sunk into a reverie. 'Curtains?' she asked, vacantly, lifting her magnificent head. 'Child, child, it is many years since such trifles broke across the web of my solitude'.

After another minute Reuben brought forth the following sentence: I ha' scranleted two hundred furrows come five o'clock down i' the bute. It was a difficult remark, Flora felt, to which to reply.

There are some things (like first love and one's first reviews) at which a woman in her middle years does not care to look too closely.

The life of a journalist is poor, nasty, brutish, and short. So is his style

I do not object to the phenomena, but I do object to the parrot.

Curious how Love destroys every vestige of that politeness which the human race, in its years of evolution, has so painfully acquired.

A straight nose is a great help if one wishes to look serious'.

This may not be much, but it is something. Tomorrow we die; but at least we danced in silver shoes.

He was, she reflected, almost rudely like a tortoise; and she was glad her friend kept none as pets or they might have suspected mockery.

There have always been Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm

Curious how Love destroys every vestige of that politeness which the human race, in its years of evolution, has so painfully acquired.

There are some things (like first love and one's first reviews) at which a woman in her middle years does not care to look too closely.

Something nasty in the woodshed.

Flora inherited, however, from her father a strong will and from her mother a slender ankle.

on the whole I thought I liked having everything very tidy and calm all around me, and not being bothered to do things, and laughing at the kind of joke other people didn't think at all funny, and going for country walks, and not being asked to express opinions about things (like love, and isn't so-and-so peculiar?)

Ye know, doan't ye, what it feels like when ye burn yer hand in takin' a cake out of the oven or wi'a match when ye're lightin' one of they godless cigarettes? Ay. It stings wi' a fearful pain, doan't it? And ye run away to clap a bit o' butter on it to take the pain away. Ah, but' (an impressive pause) 'there'll be no butter in hell!

The Abbe's warning: 'Never confront an enemy at the end of a journey, unless it happens to be his journey'.

He stood at the table facing Flora and blowing heavily on his tea and staring at her. Flora did not mind. It was quite interesting: like having tea with a rhinoceros.

Ah but' 'there'll be no butter in hell!

She glanced upwards for a second at the soft blue vault of the midsummer night sky. Not a cloud misted its solemn depths. Tomorrow would be a beautiful day.

Richard had realized, not that Elfine was beautiful, but that he loved Elfine. (Young men frequently need this fact pointing out to them, as Flora knew by observing the antics of her friends.)

No one had seen anything of Urk since he had gone galloping out into the night carrying Meriam, the hired girl. It was generally assumed that he had drowned her and then himself. Who cared, anyway?

Mrs Smiling's character was firm and her tastes civilized. Her method of dealing with wayward human nature when it insisted on obtruding its grossness upon her scheme of life was short and effective; she pretended things were not so: and usually, after a time, they were not. Christian Science is perhaps a larger organization, but seldom so successful.

What a pleasant life could be had in this world by a handsome, sensible old lady of good fortune, blessed with a sound constitution and a firm will