Quote

We were restless for ages...After a while I heard an owl hooting and calmed myself by thinking of it flying over the dark fields – and then I remembered it would be pouncing on mice. I love owls, but I wish God had made them vegetarian.

Dodie Smith

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Dodie Smith
Age: 94 †
Born: 1896
Born: May 3
Died: 1990
Died: November 24
Autobiographer
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
Whitefield
Greater Manchester
Charles Henry Percy
C. L. Anthony
Dorothy Gladys Smith
Dorothy Gladys Beesley
Dorothy Beesley
Dodie Beesley
Thinking
Fields
Owls
Heard
Owl
Dark
Mice
Age
Restless
Wish
Vegetarian
Made
Ages
Would
Remembered
Hooting
Love
Flying
Calmed

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Ah, but you're the insidious type--Jane Eyre with of touch of Becky Sharp. A thoroughly dangerous girl.
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I think it [religion] is an art, the greatest one an extension of the communion all the other arts attempt.
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When I read a book, I put in all the imagination I can, so that it is almost like writing the book as well as reading it - or rather, it is like living it. It makes reading so much more exciting, but I don't suppose many people try to do it.
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Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to!
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Perhaps it would really be rather dull to be married and settled for life. Liar! It would be heaven.
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He laughed a little, in an odd, nervous kind of way. Because if I don't get going soon, the whole impetus may die--and if that happens, well, I really shall consider a long, restful plunge into insanity. Sometimes the abyss yawns very attractively.
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Oh, comfortable cocoa!
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Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out what is wrong with me.
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Only the margin left to write on now. I love you, I love you, I love you.
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Just to be in love seemed the most blissful luxury I had ever known. The thought came to me that perhaps it is the loving that counts, not the being loved in return -- that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness. For a moment I felt that I had discovered a great truth.
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Cruel blows of fate call for extreme kindness in the family circle.
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How I wish I lived in a Jane Austen novel!
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Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?
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What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?
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