Had an active social life and enjoyed telling stories
Born lamb Dickon had found three days before lying by its dead mother among the gorse bushes on the moor. It was not the first motherless lamb he had found and he knew what to do with it. He had taken...
Because of the rare peaceful hours when his thoughts were changed-his soul was slowly growing stronger, too.
And there she was standing on the grass, which seemed to have turned green, and with the sun pouring down on her and warm sweet wafts about her and the fluting and twittering and singing coming from e...
Acquaintance.
Where you tend a rose, my lad, a thistle cannot grow.
When I lie by myself and remember I begin to have pains everywhere and I think of things that make me begin to scream because I hate them so. If there was a doctor anywhere who could make you forget y...
Two lads an’ a little lass just lookin’ on at th’ springtime. I warrant it’d be better than doctor’s stuff.
Things happen to people by accident,
They were as real as Sara, and it was careless of them not to come out of the story shadowland and say, Here I am — tell about me. But they did not — which was their fault and not mine. People who liv...
There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that's stronger.
There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever do.
There was a clean fresh scent of heather and grass and leaves about him, almost as if he were made of them.
The robin was tremendously busy. He was very much pleased to see gardening begun on his own estate. He had often wondered at Ben Weatherstaff. Where gardening is done all sorts of delightful things to...
That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy.
Soldiers don't complain...I am not going to do it; I will pretend this is part of a war.
She was all in pink, and a wreath of little pink wild roses lay close about her head, making her, with her tall young slimness, look like a Botticelli nymph.
She was a sweet, pretty thing and he'd have walked the world over to get her a blade o' grass she wanted.
She stopped and listened to him and somehow his cheerful, friendly little whistle gave her a pleased feeling--even a disagreeable little girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor...
She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor, and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridor and it branched into other corridors and it led her up short flights of steps whic...