Miss Buncle's Book Quotes

“What fools the public were! They were exactly like sheep…thought Mr. Abbott sleepily…following each other’s lead, neglecting one book and buying another just because other people were buying it, although, for the life of you, you couldn’t see what the one lacked and the other possessed.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Some people’s elegance was only skin-deep, scrape off a little bit of the veneer and you got the real wood—common”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“It was just the old house creaking in the wind, and talking to itself about all it had seen, and the big cheerful families which it had sheltered and sent forth into the world.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Few of us have the necessary unselfishness to hear with gladness the talents of others extolled or to listen with patience to the successes of those whom we despise.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Poverty is easy to bear if it is only temporary, easier still if it is an entirely voluntary burden.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Nell wagged her feathery tail. It was good when the goddess descended from the clouds and spoke to you; it gave you a cozy safe feeling in your inside.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“I wish I was dead,” Barbara said. “I wish I had somebody to talk to. I wish—” “You better go out, Miss Barbara,” said Dorcas crossly. “What’s the good of wishing you was dead, and then wishing you had somebody to talk to? You couldn’t talk if you was dead. If you was to go out for a nice walk you might meet somebody to talk to, and I’d get on with my work—I’m behind ’and as it is.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Disturber of the Peace.” Miss Buncle’s book intrigued Mr. Abbott, and Miss Buncle herself intrigued him. She was such a queer mixture of simplicity and subtlety (at least he thought she was). She spoke bad grammar and wrote good English. She was meticulously truthful in all she said (it was almost as if she were on oath to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth all day long and every day of the week).”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“I never really thought or believed in my bones that the book would be published. I just finished it and sent it up—” “And why to me?” inquired Mr. Abbott with much interest. “I mean why did you send the book to me? Perhaps you had heard from somebody that our firm—” “Oh, no,” she exclaimed. “I knew nothing at all about publishers. You were the first on the list—alphabetically—that was all.” Mr. Abbott was somewhat taken aback—on such trifles hang the fates of bestsellers!”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“anent”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“People are made differently—and how fortunate that they are; what a dull world it would be if we were all alike! One person can do one thing and another person can do something else. Together we shall be complete, invincible, perfect,”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“badinage—”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“solecism”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“infra dig”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“interpolated”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“foolscap.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Authors! said Dorcas to herself with scornful emphasis. Authors indeed! Well, I’ll never read a book again but what I’ll think of the people as has had to put up with the author, I know that.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“I don’t suppose he’s happy being horrid—nobody is,” said Sarah wisely.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Well, you will,” declared Miss King. She knew that she was putting her case badly. She knew—although she had not admitted it to herself—that her case was already lost. She was nervous, and her flow of language—business-like language—had deserted her. Coming up in the train she had overwhelmed Mr. Abbott with her eloquence and brought him to his knees. But Mr. Abbott was so different from what she had imagined, so quiet and calm and sure of himself, so benign-looking. If he had been angry or rude she could have dealt with him much more easily. She had never imagined that a publisher was like this.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“She had lived for so long among these people and had suffered so many afternoon teas that she was able to say the expected thing without thinking about it at all. You simply put a penny in the machine and the expected thing came out at once, all done up in a neat little packet, and suitably labeled.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“he hated having to worry about things—because everything would be quite all right,”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Few of us have the necessary unselfishness to hear with gladness the talents of others extolled or to listen with patience to the successes of those whom we despise—Vivian hated it more than most people.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“They were an extremely happy family, but perhaps somewhat annoying to their friends; for they were all so full of each other’s excellences that they had no admiration or interest for the excellences of outsiders.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“Mr. Abbott was not the least bit disappointed when he reread the thing; it was just as good today as it had been last night—in fact it was better, for he knew the end and could now appreciate the finer points. It made him chuckle, it kept him glued to his chair till the small hours, it drifted along and he drifted along with it and time was not. It was the characterization, Mr. Abbott decided, that made the book. The people were all so real; every single character was convincing. Every single character breathed the breath of life. There was not a flat two-dimensional character in the book—rather unusual that! There were glaring faults of construction in the thing (in fact there was not much attempt at construction about it)—obviously a tyro, this John Smith! And yet, was he? And yet, was he? Weren’t the very faults of construction part of the book’s charm?”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“- Me parece muy entretenido -contestó Sally-, pero no creo que sea solo un libro entretenido, sino algo mucho mejor...
- ¿De verdad?
- Es como... como alegórico. Es un pueblecito horrible que solo sabe mirarse el ombligo, solo se preocupa de sus cosas, y se da mucha importancia, pero es puro engreimiento, petulancia, convencionalismo y satisfacción de sí mismo; de pronto, a los habitantes se les cae una venda de los ojos, se olvidan de los límites y actúan cada cual según su verdadera personalidad. Ya no es todo una farsa, son personas auténticas.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“You give up writing and we’ll try hens,” wheedled Dorcas. “My nephew has a fine hen-farm in Surrey. He’d be willing to start us off with a few, and give us some hints—” The author sat up in bed and gazed at her in amazement. “Dorcas, I could never give up writing now,” she said, incredulously (nor could she; the vice had got her firmly in its grip, as well ask a morphinomaniac to give up drugs). “You don’t know how exciting it is, Dorcas. It just sweeps you along and you’ve no idea of the time—”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“If you bring the egg here I’ll eat it,” said Barbara in despair. “Only for goodness’ sake go away and don’t talk to me—” Dorcas went away. She was beginning to get used to living in the house with an author. It was not comfortable, she found, and it was distinctly trying to the temper. Dorcas often thought with regret of the good old days when the dividends had come in punctually, and Miss Barbara had been an ordinary human being; taking her meals at regular hours, going up to bed as the clock struck eleven,”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“It’s a pity more people are not as brave as the Colonel,” said Mrs. Featherstone Hogg with asperity. She had pondered for so long over the horse-whipping business that she was now convinced in her own mind that the whole thing was settled with Colonel Weatherhead. It would have been almost impossible to disabuse her mind of the conviction that Colonel Weatherhead had agreed with alacrity to horse-whip John Smith. Fortunately, nobody present was in a position to try.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“She had made a fool of the whole thing by asking old Durnet and Mrs. Goldsmith. The former was practically an imbecile in Mr. Bulmer’s opinion—a good many people were practically imbeciles in Mr. Bulmer’s opinion.”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book

“It would be exciting to write a play, Barbara thought, to see your creations put on the garment of mortality, to hear your words issuing from their mouths. But a play must always be a little disappointing; no actor can completely satisfy an author, and there must be some discrepancy between the author’s conception of a character and the actor’s expression. This was far better than any play, for the actors were themselves. They couldn’t act out of character if they tried,”
― D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book