Quotes from D.E. Stevenson

Mr. Weir knew at once that I was really interested and came half-way to meet me. When people go half-way to meet each other something happens—something important." "Yes—but what is it?" I ask with interest. "You give a bit of yourself and receive a bit of the other fellow, and you're both richer.

Disturber of the Peace." Miss Buncle's book intrigued Mr. Abbott, and Miss Buncle herself intrigued him. She was such a queer mixture of simplicity and subtlety (at least he thought she was). She spoke bad grammar and wrote good English. She was meticulously truthful in all she said (it was almost as if she were on oath to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth all day long and every day of the week).

Connie and Nell and Anne looked on and admired and ran to get coloured string and pieces of wire and tied labels on to the little parcels which were to be given to their guests. It was all tremendous fun and, if the truth were told, Nell and Anne enjoyed the preparations very much more than the party itself. Nell and Anne were so shy, and so unused to the society of their kind, that they found parties an ordeal.

If we go about the world giving bits of ourselves to people we meet . . . it's worthwhile having lived . . . we leave something behind us which goes on—and on.

Malcolm opened the door of the little shed and busied himself lighting the stove. He used the stove to warm the shed so that he could bring the lambs in and warm them. Most hill lambs are hardy and need little care, but some of them, when they arrive in a cold wet world, decide it is not worth the struggle. It was Malcolm's job to coax them to live and usually he succeeded.

If talent is a natural aptitude for creation with an outlook on life peculiar to oneself, then genius is to have an outlook on life, peculiar to oneself, which yet appeals to everybody. Talent is for oneself and a few others, but genius is universal.

And another thing," added Mademoiselle Bénet. "You must not make the mistake of saying to yourself, 'All French people are like that.' There are bad people and good people in my country – as there are in every country under the sun.

Jerry found Barbara very soothing and comforting during this difficult time. It was not necessary to confide in Barbara to gain her sympathy—you just talked to Barbara about odds and ends of things, and you came away feeling a different creature.

Why do I always want to appear more clever than I really am when Nora is anywhere about? Am much distressed at this discovery, as I have just read an article in this morning's paper saying that intellectual snobbery is snobbery in its worst form.)

In the course of my wanderings I have started life anew in many places, and in every place the same thing happens: at first there is little to do, one knows nobody and life passes by like a pageant, then gradually the world breaks in and one becomes a part of the pageant instead of a mere spectator.

She had been born in the days when children were taught to venerate the aged, but she had lived long enough to learn that she could count upon no respect from the young.

When you are young you are too busy with yourself - so Caroline thought - you haven't time for ordinary little things

I'm glad you're here, Monkey," said Arthur Abbott at last. "I'm getting old, I suppose. Anyhow, I've come to the time of life when one old friend seems better than all the new friends in the world.

I was not alone in my experience—not alone anymore. The mere fact that another had walked where I was walking made the path easier for my feet.

That was *not* a joke, she said in mock disapproval. So you have no business to laugh. It is very sad when people don't see your jokes - and lots of people can't, for the life of them, see mine. My jokes are either very subtle or very poor - I can't think which it can be.

How he had suffered . . . . I saw then, for the first time, that it was the mixture of strength and weakness in Garth's nature which made him so vulnerable to suffering. A weaker man would have bowed his head before the storm; a stronger man could have ridden it out. Garth was so fashioned that the storm twisted him, tortured him beyond bearing, left him maimed but still upright, still rebellious.

I came here to escape. You know that, I told him. Why didn't you rescue me from those awful people? I hate people. I told you they wouldn't snub you. I only want to be left in peace. They can't do that. It's snubs or kisses with that bunch. I guessed it would be kisses today.

everybody had to find their own way of bearing things

Knowledge is less hard to bear than ignorance if you possess an imagination.

The view down the valley was wide and free; the winding river, the rounded, rolling hills. The air sparkled so that it was a positive joy to breathe . . . and over the whole place there was a stillness, a peaceful sort of feeling; it was like the feeling one has when the words of a benediction have been uttered and have died away.

As she turned from him and looked at Trivona, she was assailed by a vague feeling of discomfort, for there was something very pathetic in the sleeping Trivvie. By day she was a rebel, full of the lust of life, battling for power, and yet more power, for freedom and yet more freedom; but, asleep, she was innocent, helpless, vulnerable. Barbara felt it was wrong to see Trivvie thus; it was like a treachery. Trivvie would hate to be seen without her armor on.

No one is forever occupied with sorrow, and there is a kind of gaiety that goes hand in hand with sorrow. Sorrow stands aside for a while to make room for mirth, and then steps forward to take her victim in a stronger grip. It was like that with me.

It is a terrible thing to be angry with the dead.

This was all the easier because Mr. Marvell was so matter of fact about the whole thing—the picture might have been a still life of a jar of roses, or of a cabbage, rather than the naked figure of his wife. After all, he's her husband, thought Barbara vaguely, and that seemed to help.