Betty MacDonald Quotes
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Our little room was morbidly quiet and sorrow was heaped in my corner like dirty snow.
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Some Saturday mornings, as soon as the mountains had bottled up the last cheerful sound of Bob and the truck, I, feeling like a cross between a boll weevil and a slut, took a large cup of hot coffee, a hot-water bottle, a cigarette and a magazine and WENT BACK TO BED. Then, from six-thirty until nine or so, I luxuriated in breaking the old mountain tradition that a decent woman is in bed only between the hours of seven pm and four am unless she is in labor or dead.
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Well, whatever you and Nancy decide to be when you grow up, I know that you'll be happy because you have discovered the comfort and joy of reading.
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The coffee was so strong it snarled as it lurched out of the pot.
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I learned that a stiff test for friendship is: “Would she be pleasant to have t.b. with?
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Certainly,' said his mother, 'but first I want to know about the accident with your bicycle.' Well,' Phillip said, 'if you wanta really know. I was sitting in the basket of my bike ridin' down Mission Hill backwards singing 'Polly Wolly Doodle' and I saw the bread truck comin' and I guess I didn't turn soon enough and I ran into the Wallaces' iron fence and I caught my shoe on the pedal and my pants on a picket and I hit my eye on the handlebars and I don't know what else happened. But, boy, you should have heard the kids and that ole breadman laugh!
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God is great and God is good, And we thank Him for this food. By His hand may we be led, Give us Lord or daily bread.
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I'll do it because I want to but not because you tell me to!
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In the country, weather is as important as food and sometimes means the difference between life and death.
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I never feel that the things I tell Mrs. Monday are lies. I think that lies are only when you want not to tell the truth. With Mrs. Monday I want to tell the truth but life is easier if I don't.
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A grudge will soon rot the pocket you carry it in.
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Dare we face the question of just how much of the darkness around us is of our own making?
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In the country Sunday is the day on which you do exactly as much work as you do on other days but feel guilty all the time you are doing it because Sunday is a day of rest.
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I am neither Christian enough nor charitable enough to like anybody just because he is alive and breathing. I want people to interest or amuse me. I want them fascinating and witty or so dull as to be different. I want them either intellectually stimulating or wonderfully corny; perfectly charming or hundred percent stinker. I like my chosen companions to be distinguishable from the undulating masses and I don't care how.