I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. “My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some brains.” “Oh, I see,” said the Tin Woodman. “But, after all, brains are not the best things in the world.” “Have you any?” inquired the Scarecrow. “No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodman. “But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, I should much rather have a heart.
Mr. Smith was an art-ist, as well as an in-vent-or, and he paint-ed a pic-ture of a riv-er which was so nat-ur-al that, as he was reach-ing a-cross it to paint some flow-ers on the op-po-site bank, he fell in-to the wa-ter and was drowned.
24. Home Again Aunt Em had just come out of the house to water the cabbages when she looked up and saw Dorothy running toward her. “My darling child!” she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses. “Where in the world did you come from?” “From the Land of Oz,” said Dorothy gravely. “And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I’m so glad to be at home again!
Toto did not like this addition to the party at first. He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest.
Neither. He’s a – a – a meat dog,” said the girl.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Ruggedo melted Tik-Tok in one of his furnaces and made copper pennies of him.” “In that case, I would still keep going,” remarked Tik-Tok, calmly. “Pennies do,” said Betsy regretfully.
She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right through my body, splitting me into two halves.
There’s no place like HOME.
The throne belongs to whoever is able to take it.
But I do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am I ever to know anything?” “I.
Scoundrel? We do not call Senhor Valcour that. He is faithful to the Emperor, who employs him. Shall we, who are unfaithful, blame him for his fidelity?
You’ll be sorry for treating me this way,” whined the Wheeler. “I’m a terribly fierce person.
People who are always understood are very common. You are sure to respect those you can’t understand, for you feel that perhaps they know more than you do.
The Emerald City has been ruled by men long enough.
The women of the world will dominate politics, some day, and you mustn’t be too old-fashioned in your notions to join the procession of progress.
Dorothy looked at him curiously. His head was quite bulged out at the top with brains. “How do you feel?” she asked. “I feel wise indeed,” he answered earnestly. “When I get used to my brains I shall know everything.” “Why are those needles and pins sticking out of your head?” asked the Tin Woodman. “That is proof that he is sharp,” remarked the Lion.
Are you so very hungry?” asked Dorothy, in wonder. “You can hardly imagine the size of my appetite,” replied the Tiger, sadly. “It seems to fill my whole body, from the end of my throat to the tip of my tail. I am very sure the appetite doesn’t fit me, and is too large for the size of my body. Some day, when I meet a dentist with a pair of forceps, I’m going to have it pulled.” “What, your tooth?” asked Dorothy. “No, my appetite,” said the Hungry Tiger.
I think you are a very good tiger,” said Dorothy, patting the huge head of the beast. “In that you are mistaken,” was the reply. “I am a good beast, perhaps, but a disgracefully bad tiger. For it is the nature of tigers to be cruel and ferocious, and in refusing to eat harmless living creatures I am acting as no good tiger has ever before acted. That is why I left the forest and joined my friend the Cowardly Lion.
There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land was rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.
He sent for the Long-Eared Hearer and asked him to listen carefully and report what was going on in the big world. “It seems,” said the Hearer, after listening for awhile, “that the women in America have clubs.” “Are there spikes in them?” asked Ruggedo, yawning. “I cannot hear any spikes, Your Majesty,” was the reply. “Then their clubs are not as good as my sceptre. What else do you hear?′ “There’s a war. “Bah! there’s always a war. What else?