Anna and Her Daughters Quotes

“The storyteller has always been a valuable member of society. Even in prehistoric times when men hunted wild beasts and lived in caves they sat around the campfire at night and listened to stories. Your profession is one of the oldest in the world and one of the most useful... And we need stories more than ever now. We need stories to entertain us, to help us to forget our troubles, to fill our lives with colour.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“Sitting there with Val's warm little body against my side and his silky-soft hair against my cheek, I felt happy and peaceful. Before this I had loved Val because he was Ronnie's son, but now I loved him for himself... and I knew there would be no more trouble. He would feel miserable at times--that could not be helped--but he would let me comfort him. And I saw how foolish I had been to fuss and worry about "the right approach" because of course "the right approach" to all our fellow creatures is just to love them.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“It was curious that when we had been able to buy new clothes when we wanted we had never really appreciated them nor enjoyed them. You have to be in the position of needing things very badly indeed before you can appreciate possessing them.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“And I saw how foolish I had been to fuss and worry about 'the right approach' because of course 'the right approach' to all our fellow creatures is just to love them.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“had always admired her tremendously but now, quite suddenly, I saw her in a different light: small and pathetic and lonely. She had chosen loneliness because she hated ‘getting involved emotionally’. She was afraid of getting hurt. Freedom was what she wanted but it seemed to me a poor substitute for affection. I thought of all she had told me about the pearls; she couldn’t wear them; she didn’t want to sell them; she hated to shut them up in prison. I”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“They don’t understand anything,” declared Mother smiling at me rather sadly. “They don’t even know that there’s anything to understand. They’re like horses with blinkers —they just see what’s in front of their noses and nothing more. I’m always terribly sorry for horses with blinkers,” added Mother with a sigh.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“It is, really. And we need stories more than ever now. We need stories to entertain us, to help us to forget our troubles, to fill our lives with colour.” He paused and then added, “The period you’ve chosen is very colourful.” “Would”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“Dreaming was easy. I could dream for hours — not thinking, not wondering, not conscious of the passing of time. I could dream at all times and in all places — and this place was made for dreams. I did not awake until Andrew’s shadow fell across my knees. “Where are the sand-castles, Jane?” “They were castles in Spain,” I replied, smiling up at him. “But the real reason I wanted to come to the sea was pearls. Pearls like sea-water and sunshine.” He stooped over the pool and said, “Not real pearls,”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“It depends what you mean by ‘really good’,” said Mrs. Millard thoughtfully. “If you mean is it a work of art which will enrol you in the annals of fame it isn’t good at all. Alas, my poor Jane, you will never see your sculptured bust displayed on a marble column in the British Museum — or wherever it is that they display sculptured busts of the famous — but, unless I am very much mistaken, you will see a great many copies of The Mulberry Coach on the shelves of libraries and the counters of bookstalls all over the country — and probably in America as well if you have the temerity to cross the Atlantic Ocean. You see, my dear Jane, The Mulberry Coach provides an escape from the drabness of the modern world.” She”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“It’s a sort of build up. You have to describe —” “You don’t build up this sort of story. You don’t describe the scenery and the characters. This sort of story is an entertainment for people who can’t be bothered with long and detailed explanations. You must plunge straight into the middle of the story on the very first page.” She smiled and added, “Here am I telling you how to write a novel … and I couldn’t write a novel to save my life.” All”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“I believe you’re as silly as I am,” said Mrs. Millard smiling rather sadly. “You’re a sentimental young woman, I’m afraid. You mustn’t be sentimental; it’s a sure road to a broken heart. It’s ever so much better to be tough and callous — and a little bit selfish.” I thought of Helen — it was dreadful of me to think of Helen but I could not help it — Helen was like that: tough and callous and a little bit selfish and she sailed through life very comfortably. “What shall I do with”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“Lady Esmeralda’s background was no less interesting than herself; it was a colourful picture of luxury and squalor. Armies of servants thronged the great houses; coaches rumbled up to the doors. Huge meals were eaten at tables laden with silver and lit by candles; there was drinking and gambling and duelling. Highwaymen frequented lonely roads and footpads lurked in the streets. Thieves were hanged and crowds gathered to see the grisly entertainment. The picture of life in those far-off days became so real and clear that I felt as if I had lived in them myself. It was almost as if I remembered them. Sometimes I returned to them in my dreams (which was not always enjoyable) and occasionally I found myself”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“Oh, perhaps not consciously — but it comes to the same thing. She’s had no chance to develop her own personality. I often wonder what sort of lives they will have,” Mother continued. “Life is so dangerous. You make your bed when you’re very young and you’ve got to lie on it whether it’s comfortable or not. Helen and Rosalie are very different but in one thing they’re alike: they don’t understand.” “They don’t understand what?” I asked in bewilderment. “They don’t understand anything,” declared Mother smiling at me rather sadly. “They don’t even know that there’s anything to understand. They’re like horses with blinkers — they just see what’s in front of their noses and nothing more. I’m always terribly sorry for horses with blinkers,” added Mother with a sigh. She”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters

“And I saw how foolish I had been to fuss and worry about ‘the right approach’ because of course ‘the right approach’ to all our fellow creatures is just to love them.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Anna and Her Daughters