Quotes About Farmhouse

So I took to the road with an accomplice and set off to the golden South, the new land of opportunity, North Carolina. Here, with the help of a partner I had only just met (and on the back porch of a rural farmhouse, to boot!), I was going to simultaneously live my version of the great American dream and enrich the lives of the residents of Raleigh, North Carolina.

When she was little they had lived in an old farmhouse too, in the middle of nothing of but landscape.

When Emil returned from the Second World War blind and disfigured and wanting only to feed in isolation on the meat of his bitterness, his family had purchased and completely renovated a farmhouse that was a stone's throw from the edge of town.

When everything was ready, the group fell silent. Ed and Bishop McKenna stared at each other silently. For Maurice Theriault arid the force that possessed him, the climactic moment had come. By the time it was finished, everyone in the living room of this modest farmhouse would be changed forever, and one person would have come close to death. Ed

I left New York in 2009 when I fell in love with someone who had a farmhouse in New Hampshire... Portland, Maine, felt like the inevitable place for us.

and from the rafters overhead hung hams, bundles of dried herbs, nets of onions, and baskets of eggs. It seemed a place where

My dear Martin, in the long summer of childhood, when I was a boy the age you are now, your uncles and I spread our mattress on the roof of your grandfather's farmhouse outside of Homs.

the new farmhouse Uncle Henry built after the cyclone had carried away the old one.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse near.

Before reaching Grassy Butte, though, Dad spied a farmhouse with two pumps in the drive and a red-and-white sign out front saying DALE'S OIL COMPANY. Another sign said CLOSED, but a light was on in the house and Dad pulled in, saying, I believe we might prevail on Dale. What do you think? Prevail on Dale, I repeated to Swede. To make a sale, she added. And if we fail, we'll whale on Dale-- Till he needs braille! Will you guys desist? Dad asked.

The Morton farmhouse was aglow with light, and gay dance music from Iola's hi-fi came throbbing out on the crisp night air. As the Hardys' convertible pulled up, Chet popped onto the veranda to greet the three latecomers. "Hey! What kept you guys so long? Iola and Callie wouldn't even let me serve the food till you got here! You want me to starve to death?

I have bougainvillea and a magnolia tree outside my window. Not that anything will ever beat the view I had from my desk window in my little farmhouse in Nebraska. Just a dirt road stretching out as far as you could see, with prairie grass on either side.

I write in an old-school paneled study in the middle of a large farmhouse in rural Iowa. I have pine floors, a big cherry desk, and a small window. The room is cluttered with papers and books and gifts from friends.

There was a big barn and a darling little farmhouse at the end of a drive through the fields. As they got closer Maggie noticed the details. The windows were covered with tinfoil. The weather vane on top of the house had tinfoil streamers on it.

Maggie lives in a beautiful, century old, happily haunted farmhouse named "Serenity" in the wildest

Rain it did, and that night in the atrium of the old farmhouse, they could here it hushing and pattering on the roof and among the broad leaves of the fig-tree outside; and the little breath of air from the open door that scarcely stirred the flame of the lamp on the table bore with it that most wonderful of all smells, the throat-catching heart-catching scent of rain on a hot and thirsty earth.

When it comes to making decisions, I will come down on the side of Nebraska every time. If I have to choose between the White House and the farmhouse, I choose the farmhouse.

309Knee-high by the Fourth of July. So it must be June. Every farmhouse in its cloud of trees. There is a way trees stir before a rain, as if they already felt the heaviness. It all just went on and on, the United States of America. It was so easy to forget that most of the world was cornfields.

An upland hollow and mist beneath the moon—a veil of mist over apple blossoms and the heavy bloom of an ancient lilac bush beside the ruin of a farmhouse burned these sixty years and more.

Flowers in earthenware jugs are everywhere. There's an old-fashioned range and a scrubbed wooden table and a stable door open to the outside. As I'm wondering whether I should be making conversation, a chicken wanders in and starts scratching at the ground.

Some hams hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof, otherwise nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous resolution was passed on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum.

By this point I was eager to emulate Guleed and merge unobtrusively with the imitation French farmhouse fittet cupboard and counter unit behind me.

The firmest house in my fiction, probably, is the little thick-walled sandstone farmhouse of 'The Centaur' and 'Of the Farm'; I had lived in that house, and can visualize every floorboard and bit of worn molding.

I have a 60-acre farm in North Carolina, and I have a tractor and a farmhouse. As soon as I groom the land, I want to put cabins around and have a place where people can write and hang out. It'll be either that or an all-black nudist colony.