Quotes from D.E. Stevenson

It was curious that when we had been able to buy new clothes when we wanted we had never really appreciated them nor enjoyed them. You have to be in the position of needing things very badly indeed before you can appreciate possessing them.

We're going about it the wrong way … Passing laws and trying to make people happy and good … there's only one way in which it can be done and that's from inside outwards; starting with the individual and spreading outwards to others. Some people have power in them and could do a lot, others could just do a little, but everybody could do something … even if they just made one house a happy place.

He put down the paper without regret, and looked at his wife, and, as he looked at her, he smiled because she was nice to look at, and because he loved her, and because she amused and interested him enormously. They had been married for nine months now, and sometimes he thought he knew her through and through, and sometimes he thought he didn't know the first thing about her—theirs was a most satisfactory marriage.

Prayer did not come easily to me for I always feel that prayer is a silent thing, an opening of the heart. To ask for earthly benefits, to reel out a list of requirements and expect them to be supplied is not prayer. It is putting God in the same category as an intelligent grocer.

The idea of writing down one's difficulties and perplexities is not a new one. Great men have found it valuable in clearing their minds and helping them to wise and deliberate judgment—why shouldn't I, in my smaller way, find a solution to my difficulties in the same manner?

It was an eye-opener to Charlotte that she could love somebody in this mad way with a wild sweet tenerness that made everything he touched precious to her.

Bel let her talk—as a matter of fact it would have been difficult to stop her—and there was no harm in listening as long as she did not allow herself to believe a word Louise was saying. It's a dream, thought Bel. It's a fairy-tale. Fairy-tales don't happen.

Death is not the saddest way to lose somebody you love.

Barbara returned the pressure. "It's turned out all right after all," she said contentedly. "Things usually do, somehow. You worry and fuss and try to make things go the way you think they should, and then you find that the other way was best. I'm going to try not to worry about things anymore.

The storyteller has always been a valuable member of society. Even in prehistoric times when men hunted wild beasts and lived in caves they sat around the campfire at night and listened to stories. Your profession is one of the oldest in the world and one of the most useful... And we need stories more than ever now. We need stories to entertain us, to help us to forget our troubles, to fill our lives with colour.

Dr. Forrester got lost in the snow and staggered into the hall and collapsed on the floor. If the door had been locked he would probably have died. So ever since then Uncle Jock and Aunt Mamie have never allowed the door to be locked.

had always admired her tremendously but now, quite suddenly, I saw her in a different light: small and pathetic and lonely. She had chosen loneliness because she hated 'getting involved emotionally'. She was afraid of getting hurt. Freedom was what she wanted but it seemed to me a poor substitute for affection. I thought of all she had told me about the pearls; she couldn't wear them; she didn't want to sell them; she hated to shut them up in prison. I

They had finished their meal. Anne rose to fetch the coffee and as she passed his chair she bent over and kissed him lightly on the forehead. It was a butterfly caress and exactly expressed the relationship between them, which was almost that of father and daughter, but not quite. Fathers and daughters have always known each other and take their affection for granted as a natural thing, but these two had found each other and were grateful.

and what is more annoying than to be chatted to when you are absorbed in a book?

They didn't hate Germany or wish her ill. They were too busy and happy to bother.

They left their comfortable homes... and fought..., and, because this was bread in their bone, they wanted no fuss.

We would do the same if we had colonies Franz told himself (it was a sore subject of course), but somehow Franz was aware that if a German youth had accomplished anything so spectacular he would enjoy the ensuing "fuss." He would be fated and acclaimed, and would strut about in uniform with his decoration pinned to his breast for all the world to see.

I like you to be happy and carefree, but... but nobody ought to live in a fool's Paradise.

If we hate people it does not hurt them at all... it hurts ourselves.

Our nation is being kept in a state of fear. It is drilled into uniformity. If this goes on much longer it will destroy Germany's soul. A man needs a little piece of personal life . . . some happiness and security .. . without this he becomes an animal, a beast of burden, driven here and there at his masters whim . . . and the masters, Franz!" added Herr Octzen, "The masters, what are they? Small men scrambling for power and preferment and caring little who is trampled underfoot.

There were pretty carpets, good china, and an abundance of excellent food; there were magazines and papers and books lying about, and boxes of cigarettes for anyone who wanted them … there was all this, but above all there was peace. Peace, thought Franz, peace and happiness—yes, that was really the keynote of Fernacres.

She saw, more or less, how the whole thing had happened, for she had the gift—which is often a doubtful blessing—of being able to see the other person's point of view, of being able to put herself in the other person's place.

But that's just it! I never saw the old lady. I heard plenty about her from Roger and the doctor and the black satin pincushion—and they all told me something different. The only thing they had in common was terror; they were all scared to death of Aunt Beatrice.

Children are ruthless because they have not learned pity, they are inconsiderate because they have never experienced pain. When Philip had written the letter he had not seen his father receiving it, Philip had just sat down and written exactly what he was feeling with absolute honesty...