The snug log house looked just as it always had. It did not seem to know they were going away.
They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
Pa promised that when they came to the West, Laura should see a papoose.
As you read my stories of long ago I hope you will remember that things truly worthwhile and that will give you happiness are the same now as they were then. It is not the things you have that make you happy. It is love and kindness and helping each other and just plain being good.
There is nothing wrong with God's plan that man should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow.
A good laugh overcomes more difficulties and dissipates more dark clouds than any other one thing.
It was so wonderful to be there, safe at home, sheltered from the winds and the cold. Laura thought that this must be a little like heaven, where the weary are at rest.
Well, Caroline, it's pleasant to be with a crowd of people all trying to do the right thing, same as we are.
There the wild animals wandered and fed as though they were in a pasture that stretched much farther than a man could see, and there were no settlers. Only Indians lived there.
Mr. Wilder says he would rather have me help than any man he ever sawed with. And, believe me, I learned how to take care of hens and to make them lay.
In the bitter cold weather Pa could not be sure of finding any wild game to shoot for meat.
In the long winter evenings he talked to Ma about the Western country. In the West the land was level, and there were no trees. The grass grew thick and high.
This earthly life is a battle,' said Ma. 'If it isn't one thing to contend with, it's another. It always has been so, and it always will be. The sooner you make up your mind to that, the better off you are, and more thankful for your pleasures.
Once you begin being naughty, it is easier to go and on and on, and sooner or later something dreadful happens.
So Pa sold the little house. He sold the cow and calf. He made hickory bows and fastened them upright to the wagon box. Ma helped him stretch white canvas over them.
Golden years are passing by, Happy, happy golden years, Passing on the wings of time, These happy golden years. Call them back as they go by, Sweet their memories are, Oh, improve them as they fly, These happy golden years. Laura's.
We who live in quiet places have the opportunity to become acquainted with ourselves, to think our own thoughts and live our own lives in a way that is not possible for those keeping up with the crowd.
Ma didn't think puns were funny but couldn't help laughing at the naughty look Pa gave her when he made one.
The candle-light was dim, as though the darkness were trying to put it out.
It is a good idea sometimes to think of the importance and dignity of our every-day duties. It keeps them from being so tiresome; besides, others are apt take us at our own valuation.
Politicians, they take pleasure a-prying into a man's affairs and I aimed to please 'em.
We start learning the minute we're born, Laura. And if we're wise, we don't stop until the Lord calls us home.
Laura felt a warmth inside her. It was very small, but it was strong. It was steady, like a tiny light in the dark, and it burned very low but no winds could make it flicker because it would not give up.
If enough people think of a thing and work hard enough at it, I guess it's pretty nearly bound to happen, wind and weather permitting.
We'd never get anything fixed to suit us if we waited for things to suit us before we started.
This is now. She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
He knew you could never teach an animal anything if you struck it, or even shouted at it angrily. He must always be gentle, and quiet, and patient, even when they made mistakes. Star.
Little rabbits, you know, always have games together before they go to bed.
Our inability to see things that are right before our eyes, until they are pointed out to us, would be amusing if it were not at times so serious. We are coming, I think, to depend too much on being told and shown and taught, instead of using our own eyes and brains and inventive faculties, which are likely to be just as good as any other person's.
Snow as fine and grainy as sugar covered the windows in and sifted off to the floor and did not melt.
So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go. It stayed there inside the log fence, behind the two big oak trees that in the summertime had made green roofs for Mary and Laura to play under. And that was the last of the little house.
Ma had been very fashionable, before she married Pa, and a dressmaker had made her clothes.
In the West the land was level, and there were no trees. The grass grew thick and high. There the wild animals wandered and fed as though they were in a pasture that stretched much farther than a man could see, and there were no settlers. Only Indians lived there.
The path that went by the little house had become a road. Almost every day Laura and Mary stopped their playing and stared in surprise at a wagon slowly creaking by on that road.
Why, I guess you can, Ma said doubtfully. She did not like to see women working in the fields. Only foreigners did that. Ma and her girls were Americans, above doing men's work.
Her blue eyes were still beautiful, but they did not know what was before them, and Mary herself could never look through them again to tell Laura what she was thinking without saying a word.
Mary and Laura clung tight to their rag dolls and did not say anything. The cousins stood around and looked at them. Grandma and all the aunts hugged and kissed them and hugged and kissed them again, saying good-by.
The trouble with organizing a thing is that pretty soon folks get to paying more attention to the organization than to what they're organized for.
It was muskets that won the Revolution. And don't forget it was axes, and plows that made this country.- Father Wilder.
I declare, you eat more plums than you pick up, Mary said. I don't either any such a thing, Laura contradicted. I pick up every plum I eat.
They drove a long way through the snowy woods, till they came to the town of Pepin. Mary and Laura had seen it once before, but it looked different now.
There was no time to lose, no time to waste in rest or play. The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime.
I always have been a busy person, doing my own housework, helping the Man of the Place when help could not be obtained; but I love to work. And it is a pleasure to write. And, oh, I do just love to play!
Some old-fashioned things like fresh air and sunshine are hard to beat.
It is the simple things of life that make living worthwhile, the sweet fundamental things such as love and duty, work and rest, and living close to nature.