The light strengthened, the mornings came sooner.
The quickest way to spoil a friendship is to wake somebody up in the morning before he is ready.
Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart.
There is nothing so expensive, really, as a big, well-developed, full-bodied preconception.
Tonight I heard Louis’s horn. My father heard it, too. The wind was right, and I could hear the notes of taps, just as darkness fell. There is nothing in all the world I like better than the trumpet of the swan.
Almost all spiders are rather nice-looking.
Charlotte died. The Fair Grounds were soon deserted. The sheds and buildings were empty and forlorn. The infield was littered with bottles.
Democrats do a lot of bellyaching about the press being preponderantly Republican, which it is. But they don’t do the one thing that could correct the situation: they don’t go into the publishing business. Democrats say they haven’t got that kind of money, but I’m afraid they haven’t got that kind of temperament or, perhaps, nerve.
But I think the Court again heard clearly the simple theme that ennobles our Constitution: that no one shall be made to feel uncomfortable or unsafe because of nonconformity.
The trouble today,” he wrote, “is that the Communist world understands unity but not liberty, while the free world understands liberty but not unity. Eventual victory may be won by the first of the two sides to achieve the synthesis of both liberty and unity.
Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time.
To confront death, in any guise, is to identify with the victim and face what is unsettling and sobering.
It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when conditions are right. Man’s curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.
Can I have a pig, too, Pop?’ asked Avery. ‘No, I only distribute pigs to early risers,’ said Mr Arable. ‘Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly.
I’m glad to report that even now, at this late day, a blank sheet of paper holds the greatest excitement there is for me – more promising than a silver cloud, prettier than a little red wagon. It holds all the hope there is, all fears. I can remember, really quite distinctly, looking a sheet of paper square in the eyes when I was seven or eight years old and thinking, ‘This is where I belong, this is it’.
I shall get up on Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness... Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
Some of the published news was distorted, but distortion is inherent in partisan journalism, the same as it is in political rallies.
This week, many will be reminded that no explosion of atoms generates so hopeful a light as the reflection of a star, seen appreciatively in a pasture pond.
Familiarity is the thing – the sense of belonging. It grants exemption from all evil, all shabbiness. A farmer pauses in the doorway of his barn and he is wearing the right boots. A sheep stands under an apple tree and it wears the right look, and the tree is hung with puckered frozen fruit of the right color.
Maybe it’s all right,” she said. “But for the first time in my life I’m beginning to feel like an outsider in my own land.