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Quote by Kate Milford

“Smugglers are always going to be flush with cash as soon as they find a buyer for the eight cartons of fountain pen cartridges that write in illegal shades of green, but they never have money today. You should, if you are going to run a smugglers' hotel, get a big account book and assume that whatever you write in it, the reality is, you're going to get paid in fountain pen cartridges. If you're lucky. You could just as easily get paid with something even more useless.”

Quote by Kate Milford

Book:Greenglass House
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Greenglass House

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Kate Milford

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“…yet three acts were unanimously decided upon; first, to send all the women and children out of the village--next, to despatch a messenger to Woodchurch for military aid--and, next, to set about casting bullets immediately, as no shot larger than slugs were to be found in the place. The reader will probably ask, with a look of surprise, "Is this a scene in North America, where settlers were daily exposed to the incursions of the savages?"--and he may add, "This could not have happened in England!" But I beg to say, this happened in the county of Kent, less than a century ago; and persons are still living, who remember having been sent with the women and children out of the village, that the men might not be impeded by fear for those they loved, while defending the spot on which they were born.”

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“Tot ce putem şti, fără temerea de a fi dezmintiţo este că suntem purtătorii bogaţi ai unor excepţionale posibilităţi. Tot ce putem crede, fără de a săvârşi un atentat împotriva lucidităţii, este că ni s-a dat să luminăm cu floarea noastră de mâine un colt de pământ. Tot ce putem spera, fără de a ne lăsa manevraţi de iluzii, este mândria unor iniţiative spirituale, istorice, care să sară, din când în când, ca o scânteie şi asupra creştetelor altor popoare. Restul e - ursită.”

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“În limpezi depărtări aud din pieptul unui turn cum bate ca o inimă un clopot şi-n zvonuri dulci îmi pare că stropi de linişte îmi curg prin vine, nu de sânge. Gorunule din margine de codru, de ce mă-nvinge cu aripi moi atâta pace când zac în umbra ta şi mă dezmierzi cu frunza-ţi jucăuşă? O, cine ştie? - Poate că din trunchiul tău îmi vor ciopli nu peste mult sicriul, şi liniştea ce voi gusta-o între scândurile lui o simt pesemne de acum: o simt cum frunza ta mi-o picură în suflet - şi mut ascult cum creşte-n trupul tău sicriul, sicriul meu, cu fiecare clipă care trece, gorunule din margine de codru.”

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Book:All Stirred Up
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