Peter Kerr > Peter's Quotes

“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”
― Groucho Marx, The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx

“But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, it's bloom is shed;
Or, like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white, then melts forever.”
― Robert Burns, Tam o' Shanter

“A line will take us hours may be;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been nought.”
― W.B. Yeats 1865 - 1939

“I say, patience and shuffle the cards!”
― Miguel de Cervantes 1547 - 1616

“When the music changes, so does the dance.”
― (Anon)

“We gazed back over the fields to the farmhouse. Its white walls, faded wooden shutters and terra-cotta tiled roof peeped sleepily over the deep green domes of the orange trees, while the mountains looked benignly on - secure, solid and serene. Without exchanging a word, we both knew that this was going to be our new home.”
― Peter Kerr, Snowball Oranges: One Mallorcan Winter

“The sky was blue. So was Ellie, and I knew how she felt. Mario Lanzarote had just died.”
― Peter Kerr, Viva Mallorca!: One Mallorcan Autumn

“I'd be left in solitary bliss to contemplate nothing more exacting than the strange golden colour of my once-snowy Scottish knees. Then, as dusk beckoned, I'd be surrounded by a million dancing lights - a flying ballet of insects, hovering and flitting between the orange trees, their tiny wings radiating the glow of thesetting sun.”
― Peter Kerr, Manana Manana: One Mallorcan Summer

“Better to own a little that is dear to you than have all the potato fields of Sa Pobla.”
― Peter Kerr, From Paella to Porridge: A Farewell to Mallorca and a Scottish Adventure

“The last rays of the setting sun were filtering through the orchard, weaving strange, shadowy patterns on the dusty ochre earth ... Here was one small reminder, if one were needed, that we were a long way from those frosty Scottish autumns that I knew so well. This was, indeed, the island of winter spring.”
― Peter Kerr, Viva Mallorca!: One Mallorcan Autumn

“On the wooded hillsides below, an owl hooted, heralding the first liquid trills of a nightingale, while in the air above, tiny bats dashed to and fro like fleeting splashes of shadow. Then, somewhere on a distant mountain farm, a dog barked a warning to imagined marauders skulking by his master's gate. Mallorca was preparing to sleep.”
― Peter Kerr, Song of the Eight Winds: Reconquista