The Wind in the Willows

by Kenneth Grahame

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home.

Instant 5 stars tbh

a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

I love how the childrens classics from this time describe the littlest things

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolute nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.

I would have to disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment

whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not.

Oh how true these little ramblings are <3

Absorbed in the new life he was entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and dreamed long waking dreams.

I sympathise with Mole so much, this is all life should be <3

It’s my world, and I don’t want any other. What it hasn’t got is not worth having, and what it doesn’t know is not worth knowing.

Such a beautiful sentiment

and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly among them.

Finding the title of the book in the book >>

The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song.

Goals

and he had fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and all its little fitments.

Awww Mole 😭

he painted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his chair for excitement.

Mole is quickly becoming my favourite character ever period.

at least Toad was talking, and Rat was saying at intervals, “Yes, precisely; and what did you say to him?”—and thinking all the time of something very different,

We all have a Toad and Rat in our lives

“Badger hates Society, and invitations, and dinner, and all that sort of thing.”

Badger, so relatable

During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did other small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were always animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good

This honestly sounds like the dream life

the prince that was to kiss the sleeping summer back to life and love.

The most beautiful metaphor I've ever read?? Perhaps

the sun striking through in tiny golden shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the rambles along dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields;

Absolutely gorgeous imagery sweeping me off my feet

Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again, that day when he first found the river!

I was wondering what had happend to the mole's first home! It is probably in great need of another spring cleaning...

Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape.

Oh poor little Mole!!! :(

the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to; this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.

Oh gosh making me tear up :')

So you had better make it a round twenty years and be on the safe side,”

Damn this justice system doesn't play around

“Rouse thee, old loon, and take over from us this vile Toad, a criminal of deepest guilt and matchless artfulness and resource.

I mean, he had it coming but I feel bad for Mr Toad. The punishment really doesn't match the (in)severity of the crime.

with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to remember seeing quite recently somewhere—they wondered where.

The appearance of Pan (as I think it was him) was slightly random and so far this middle bit of the book is almost entirely detached from what I have been loving of the first part. We'll see what happens though!

“This is the end of everything” (he said), “at least it is the end of the career of Toad, which is the same thing;

Hes so unseriously conceited, this is such a plot twist though am I the only one that didn't actually know what happens in this book?

I’ll make him eat from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things.”

Wait so the prison is run by people and they also sentenced toad? I thought they were all animals and am now quite confused

toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb.

Sometimes buttered toast is really the solution to all of life's problems.

Why this craving for change? Why not stay on quietly here, like us, and be jolly?

Why indeed?

a sky that was always dancing, shimmering, softly talking; or swaying strongly to the passing wind and recovering itself with a toss and a merry laugh.

Oh how beautiful this book is

to-day, the unseen was everything, the unknown the only real fact of life.

I feel like this far too often

he wore small gold ear rings in his neatly-set well-shaped ears. His knitted jersey was of a faded blue, his breeches, patched and stained, were based on a blue foundation, and his small belongings that he carried were tied up in a blue cotton handkerchief.

Most stylish rat ever

It is a goodly life that you lead, friend; no doubt the best in the world, if only you are strong enough to lead it!”

I've never thought of it this way, but it truly does make sense...

as for me, the city of my birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between there and the London River.

I felt this in my bones and in my soul <3

Those eyes were of the changing foam-streaked grey-green of leaping Northern seas;

Ahhh the imagery!!!

Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company.

So many feelings :')

It was perhaps the most conceited song that any animal ever composed.

I called it

There was a great deal more of the same sort, but too dreadfully conceited to be written down. These are some of the milder verses.

Thank you, dear Kenneth Grahame, for sparing me of this

and a double note of warning, only too well known, fell on his delighted ear.

Poop-poop!

Poor Toad sprang to his feet and pelted away again, his heart in his mouth.

Beginning to lose the last of my sympathies for Mr Toad...

You don’t deserve to have such true and loyal friends, Toad, you don’t, really.

Well at least someone said it!!

I have the gift of conversation. I’ve been told I ought to have a salon, whatever that may be.

HAHAHA