The worst thing never quite comes.
Oh, how she did love that queer, common boy!
"Yes," answered Sara, nodding. "Adversity tries people, and mine has tried you and proved how nice you are.
One of her favorite fancies was that on the outside, as she called it, thoughts were waiting for people to call them.
Scientific people are always curious and I am going to be scientific.
Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off and they are nearly always doing it.
Innocent little villages full of homes torn and trampled under foot and burned!" the Duchess almost cried out. "And worse things than that—worse things!
The very fact that she never made an impudent answer seemed to Miss Minchin a kind of impudence in itself.
She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.
Two lads an' a little lass just lookin' on at th' springtime. I warrant it'd be better than doctor's stuff.
I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat," she mused. "Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out, 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say, 'Oh, a horrid Sara!' the moment they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner.
Th' world's full o' jackasses brayin' an' they never bray nowt but lies.
Perhaps to be able to learn things quickly isn't everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people...Lots of clever people have done harm and have been wicked.
How dare you think?
Everything as strange and silent, and she seemed to be hundreds of miles away from anyone, but somehow she did not feel lonely at all.
I do not know whether many people realize how much more than is ever written there really is in a story— how many parts of it are never told— how much more really happened than there is in the book one holds in one's hand and pores over.
If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.
We trifle with France and labour with Germany, we sentimentalize over Italy and ecstacise over Spain- but England we love.
That's almost like telling lies, she said. And lies—well, you see, they are not only wicked—they're vulgar.
He felt the scent and the golden glow of the sunset light as intensely as he felt the dead silence which reigned between himself and Hester almost with the effect of a physical presence.
Of course there must be lots of magic in the world but people don't know what it is like or how to make it. Perhaps the beginning is just to say nice things are going to happen until you make them happen.