Where is the Emerald City?” he inquired. “And who is Oz?” “Why, don’t you know?” she returned, in surprise. “No, indeed. I don’t know anything. You see, I am stuffed, so I have no brains at all,” he answered sadly.
East, west – home’s best!
The Tin Woodman was about to reply when he heard a low growl, and turning.
Yet Burzee has its inhabitants – for all this. Nature peopled it in the beginning with Fairies, Knooks, Ryls and Nymphs. As long as the Forest stands it will be a home, a refuge and a playground to these sweet immortals, who revel undisturbed in its depths.
The mule is a very intelligent animal, but to get his attention you have to hit him on the head with a stick.
But in the course of my wanderings I had the good fortune to save the ninth life of a tailor – tailors having, like cats, nine lives, as you probably know. The fellow was exceedingly grateful, for had he lost that ninth life it would have been the end of him; so he begged permission to furnish me with the stylish costume I now wear. It fits very nicely, does it not?
I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?” “Oh, yes,” replied Dorothy. “Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But, you see, the Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us.
The reason most people are bad is because they do not try to be good.” L. Frank Baum, The Emerald City of Oz, 1910.
I suppose I must start my brains working,” replied his Majesty the Scarecrow; “for experience has, taught me that I can do anything if I but take time to think it out.
You’ve always had the power my dear, you just had to learn it for yourself.
Tiktok. “I can-not help be-ing your in-fer-i-or for I am a mere ma-chine. When I am wound up I do my du-ty by go-ing just as my ma-chin-er-y is made to go. You have no i-de-a how full of ma-chin-er-y I am.” “I can guess,” said the Scarecrow, looking at the machine man curiously. “Some day I’d like to take you apart and see just how you are made.” “Do not do that, I beg of you,” said Tiktok; “for you could not put me to-geth-er a-gain, and my use-ful-ness would be de-stroyed.
Was Ozma once a boy?” asked Zeb, wonderingly. “Yes; a wicked witch enchanted her, so she could not rule her kingdom. But she’s a girl now, and the sweetest, loveliest girl in all the world.
There seemed to be no horses nor animals of any kind; the men carried things around in little green carts, which they pushed before them. Everyone seemed happy and contented and prosperous.
If you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man as any of them, and a better man than some of them.
I’ve learned from long experience that every road leads somewhere, or there wouldn’t be any road; so it’s likely that if we travel long enough, my dear, we will come to some place or another in the end. What place it will be we can’t even guess at this moment, but we’re sure to find out when we get there.
You seem hastily made,” remarked the Scarecrow, watching Jack’s efforts to straighten himself. “Not more so than your Majesty,” was the frank reply. “There is this difference between us,” said the Scarecrow, “that whereas I will bend, but not break, you will break, but not bend.
You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible.
The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.
Zixi made no reply, but she agreed with the alligator, who called after her sleepily, “Isn’t it fortunate we cannot have everything we are stupid enough to wish for?
But to become civilized means to dress as elaborately and prettily as possible, and to make a show of your clothes so your neighbors will envy you, and for that reason both civilized foxes and civilized humans spend most of their time dressing themselves.” “I don’t,” declared the shaggy man. “That is true,” said the King, looking at him carefully; “but perhaps you are not civilized.
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.