R.C. Sherriff > Quotes

“For years he had wondered how they got the man through that tiny opening from which he served the tickets. Was he pushed in as a baby—or built in at a later period of his life?”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“It was hard to thank Mrs. Haykin and get away. It made you feel rather unhappy, too—and selfish, because Mrs. Haykin never had a holiday herself. She lived alone. Once, so neighbours said, she had had a husband, three sons and a daughter there, and somebody was always going in and out. But that was long ago—before the Stevens’ time.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“The audience was far different from that healthy, joyous throng at the Christmas Pantomime. The theatre was full, but there were no children: the onlookers were mostly of the unwholesome 'men about town' type, the type that is known as 'sophisticated': those poor, hunted, complex-ridden people who have never found the gateway that leads to the crystal sunlight of simplicity.

[Edgar Hopkins]”
― R. C. Sherriff

“That’s nice!—Just five minutes then. I do want to hear everything. Isn’t it lovely—to be going away!” The last words cut Mary like a lash—for they were spoken without a trace of envy. They were spoken softly, and happily. For six years now Mrs. Haykin had looked after the canary when the Stevens went away. For six years, to the Stevens’ own knowledge Mrs. Haykin had not been away herself. The Stevens’ holiday had become Mrs. Haykin’s holiday: she lived every moment of it from her little house in Corunna Road. Soon she would watch them pass on their way to the station. She would not settle to her morning’s work until she had seen their train go by and satisfied herself that they had had ample time to catch it. She always hoped one of them might wave from the window.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“It was very pleasant to feel the soft breath of leisure round his elbows, but he was not entirely at his ease.”
― R.C. Sherriff, Greengates

“But they couldn’t spoil it! They only made it better fun! The more they stuck up “DANGER” and “DON’T DO THIS” and “DON’T DO THAT,” the more they threatened to fine you and prosecute you—the more they made your feet tingle and your heart thump.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“In the shock of disillusion he had recoiled upon his schooldays—seeking security and courage from memories—from Belvedere College—and he had found that no firm ground lay even there. Just a big ugly converted private house: forlorn bare windows: a worn-out garden trampled bare by boys. That was all that remained when he turned his eyes back to it—the veneer of boyish romance peeled off, and a skeleton of pathetic, pretentious make-belief grinned at him and said, “Now you know.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“For Dick and Mary, going once more into their old, familiar little bedrooms, had wondered with sinking hearts why they had never noticed in other years how dreadfully dingy and terribly poor they were. Was it a growing desire for better things?—or had these little rooms suddenly shrunk—become darker—and almost squalid?”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“But to Mrs. Stevens, “Seaview” was only the background of a fortnight in each year which troubled and disturbed her. She hated herself for not enjoying it as the others did. It made her unhappy to pretend she was enjoying herself, because it was a sham: somehow dishonest. Dick, round about fourteen—digging in the sand—his sunburnt legs bare to his tucked up shorts—would run to her suddenly with “Isn’t it lovely, Mum!” and she would say “Lovely” and smile, and hate herself for the lie.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“Mr. Stevens liked arranging things, but he knew that it had to be done very carefully, and never pressed his plans against general opposition. It was not that he enjoyed bossing people and running the show: it was simply that he knew how necessary it was to have some general scheme if every hour of the holiday was to be properly enjoyed.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“omen of a golden holiday. Towards sunset they strolled quietly back, their shadows stretching out before them, a long way over the sands.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“They put on their coats, hurried down to the pier, and began one of those delightful, unrehearsed interludes that somehow manage to stand out in the memory to the exclusion of things which have been carefully arranged.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“People who like arranging things in advance can make themselves a dreadful nuisance on a holiday--but it largely depends on the way they go about it.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“All families who live a great deal together are like the Stevenses in this respect: they unconsciously develop two separate personalities; one for family use, the other for use with strangers. The family one is restrained below their natural selves--the one revealed to strangers is inclined to be jaunty and artificially buoyant. They consequently become uneasy and embarrassed when by force of chance they have to reveal themselves before strangers and family at one and the same time, and they go to the most unreasonable pains to avoid it.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September

“It did, indeed, rain that night, but it was the kind of rain they welcomed on a holiday. As they walked back from supper, big heat-drops began to spot the dusty pavement, and patter onto the parched leaves like grit falling on dry paper. It grew heavier after dark, and they lay comfortably in bed, listening to the steady fall, welcoming every drop that came down while it did not matter to them. But the morning was clear and fine once more, with everything cool and fresh for another sunlit day.
[The Fortnight in September]”
― R. C. Sherriff

“But on holiday it is the reversing of normal habits that does one so much good.”
― R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September