Quotes from D.E. Stevenson

Tim reminds me unnecessarily at breakfast that the Bensons and the McDougalls are coming to dinner tonight and asks me to tell Annie not to breathe heavily down the back of his neck when she is waiting at table. Spend half an hour wondering how I can possibly put this in a tactful manner and realise that I can't. Decide to say nothing about it and hope for the best.

But Father took no notice. Perhaps he had never played tip-and-run when he was a boy. As a matter of fact I could not imagine Father as a boy. I could not believe he had ever been young and small with dirty hands and untidy hair—it was incredible.

I always feel uncomfortable when I do things forbidden by Tim. (A relic of Victorianism, I suppose.)

We've all got to start,' Mac pointed out. 'And Dad said in his letter that you were to have the chance of killing a good stag. I know how you feel; I felt the same about my first stag: butterflies in the tummy?

It's a pity more people are not as brave as the Colonel," said Mrs. Featherstone Hogg with asperity. She had pondered for so long over the horse-whipping business that she was now convinced in her own mind that the whole thing was settled with Colonel Weatherhead. It would have been almost impossible to disabuse her mind of the conviction that Colonel Weatherhead had agreed with alacrity to horse-whip John Smith. Fortunately, nobody present was in a position to try.

Sometimes I feel the same," said Dane gravely, "as if it were too much to bear … to go through it all again, only much worse, because now one understands more, and there's none of the glitter and excitement. Now one sees the futility of the sacrifice.

I am modiste. I 'ave a leetle place in Knightsbridge—verree chic. It is a verree good business; I sell gowns and 'ats to the verree best people. Some day when I 'ave made enough money I go back to Paree. I do not like London—no. Do you like London, Mistaire Kirke? " " I don't know. I've only just come.

but a road upon which he was moving toward eternal life. He was in no hurry to reach the end of the road; for the road, though sorrowful at times, was intensely interesting (there was so much to see and to learn and so many things to do; he would be sorry when he came to the last mile), but still it was as a road that Mr. Grace looked upon it.

Was it this? Unlike as they were in everything upon which human friendship is usually based — unlike in upbringing, in modes of life, in habits, interests, and thoughts, poles apart in station and in appearance, there was yet a bond between them which needed no forging, but sprang suddenly and strongly into being at their first contact.

And I saw how foolish I had been to fuss and worry about 'the right approach' because of course 'the right approach' to all our fellow creatures is just to love them.

One or two hostesses were so misguided as to insist on the Abbotts accepting their hospitality, but they did not repeat their mistake. Barbara was genuinely tired after her long days in the open air, and her bridge was so deplorable that even her best friends were annoyed.

As long as skies are blue and fields are green Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

thought England was ripe for revolution—but then I changed my mind. I saw they were loyal in the big things, I saw that they spoke little of their country and their Empire because their feelings were too deep. They were of one race, they were happy and secure. I couldn't go on hating you," continued Frank in a lower tone, "it was impossible to hate people who were so kind at heart. You can't hate people when you understand them.

In Mureth House there was not only physical comfort but mental and spiritual comfort as well. You could be yourself here. You could say what you liked without the slightest fear of being misunderstood and you could do what you liked without the slightest fear of giving offence.

Ned had a monotonous voice and he went on talking. He talked and talked and he made everything sound hopeless and depressing. I had felt miserable enough before, but when at last I managed to get rid of him I felt absolutely wretched. I finished my unpacking and then pulled back the heavy curtains. I expected to see the lights of London, pinpoints of light from lamp-posts which lined the streets and chinks of lights from the windows of neighbouring houses, but there was nothing to see at all. I

The other day I said to Waldron I'd give him a book to read—any book he liked—and he said he never read anything except the papers. He said he liked true stories, not made-up ones. Then I said, what about history? And he said, ' That's over and done with. All that matters to me is what happens between the time I was born and the time when I die.' What can you do with a man like that, David?

The worst of my troubles was loneliness. I had not a single friend nor any prospect of making one. The jostling crowds surged past me on the pavements (hordes of people chattering to one another) but I knew nobody and nobody knew me or cared whether I lived or died. If Miles had been here it would have been entirely different. We could have talked about our experiences and had jokes together. If Miles had been here I would not have minded what Wrigson and Ullenwood thought.

Standing with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet; Womanhood and childhood fleet. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

When Nell had undressed and put out the light she opened the window wide and lay looking out at the stars … and presently the moon rose from behind the hill like a great golden ball. Nell's head ached and her heart ached too. She was too unhappy to sleep.

Oh well, that's what he did. He's very interested in boys. He used to go down to the club in the evening and chat to the boys; he taught them to play badminton and helped them to produce plays. They did carpentry and photography—all that sort of thing, you know,' said Mr. Baird vaguely. 'Of course latterly, when he was ill, he wasn't able to go, but I managed to find a man to run the place for him and I hear things are going on quite satisfactorily.

The drive to London was uneventful. Mr. Darley did not talk much and showed no signs whatever of bounderism—if there be such a word. He was intent on driving his car. If Bel had not been so taken up with her own thoughts she might have been considerably alarmed for Mr. Darley was the type of driver whose sole object is to get from one place to another in the least possible time regardless of the other traffic on the road.

They were all unhappy but I could do nothing to help them. Nobody could help them. Perhaps the worst part of it was their unkindness to one another—yes, that was the worst. I had never before met people like this: people who were bitter and unkind and hopeless, people who had no happiness in life nor any expectation of happiness

but she told Aunt Bella everything else, and Aunt Bella listened enthralled. She nodded and sighed and asked the right questions in the right places, for she was a romantically minded woman for all her bustling, practical common sense. "Well,

Things always seem worse at night, and any sort of trouble is magnified. The darkness, the stillness, the feeling that everybody else is safely and soundly asleep give rise to feelings of desperation.