Fletchers End Quotes

“They visited a bookshop and each bought a paper-back thriller to read in bed.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“In other words the little piece of polished wood had become one of her treasures. Sometimes she took it out and held it in her hand and thought about the man who had made it, and wondered what he had looked like; (she had such a very hazy idea of history that she imagined him shaggy and attired in the skin of a bear). And she wondered how the arrow had got broken and where the other piece of it could be . . . but although she searched assiduously, high and low, she never found it.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“They had all seen her differently, thought Bel, but really and truly that was not as queer as it seemed, for of course human beings are composite mixtures of good and bad qualities and show entirely different aspects of their personalities to different people.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“She smiled and said she enjoyed making wills; she said, ‘It amuses me to change things about’. As I told you before, it gave her a feeling of power. She could make one person happy and another person miserable with a stroke of her pen.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Mr. Drummond, did you ever read about the massacre of Glencoe?’ Of course I thought the fellow was a bit mad, but there was something nice about him, too. I couldn’t help liking him—if you know what I mean. ‘Listen, Mr. Drummond,’ he said earnestly. ‘You’ll no doubt remember what the Campbells did that night. The MacDonalds took the Campbells into their homes and gave them hospitality, and in the night when it was dark—black as pitch—the Campbells rose up and killed the MacDonalds—every one of them, man, woman and child! Was that not an awful thing, Mr. Drummond?”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Not queer at all,” replied her ladyship, smiling very kindly. “I’m sure lots of people go through their weddings in a sort of dream—I know I did—and it must have been even more dreamlike for you because there were so many people you didn’t know.” Lady Steyne laughed and added, “Anyhow there’s no need for you to worry, everyone says you looked very sweet and behaved beautifully.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“It was amazing how Mrs. Warmer always seemed to know when a car stopped at the gate. It was not that she wasted time gazing out of the windows, for she got through more work than two ordinary women.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Certainly Louise was not worrying. She had discovered that if by any chance she happened to ‘get stuck’ there were always people ready to help her. People of the male sex, young or old, welcomed the opportunity to rescue a beautiful damsel in distress.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Yes, I am,” he admitted. “I’m thinking about a sermon I heard some time ago. The text was, ‘Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another.’ Why don’t we speak often to one another about important things? I don’t mean just you and me, I mean everyone. Why is religion kept shut up in a cupboard and only taken out on Sundays—put on like your best hat?” “It should be a part of everyday life.” “Yes,” said Reggie. “Why don’t we talk about it? Of course the answer is that it’s ‘not done’. Fellows would think you had gone a bit queer in the head if you started talking about the Lord.” Bel could not help smiling. “It’s true, isn’t it?” asked Reggie. “Yes it’s perfectly true.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Neither of us knew that the other liked this sort of thing.” “People don’t talk about it. That’s why. You can know people for years and yet not know in the very least what they think about religion.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Mr. James would have preferred a younger and more attractive secretary, but he merely sighed and said, “Oh well . . . Of course you know best, Mrs. B. She certainly seems very keen.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Sky blue,” he replied proudly. “I thought of red at first and then I saw a red Moonbeam—exactly the same model—with two ghastly people in it. They had parked in a lay-by and they were hugging each other—on the main road, mark you! It was enough to put anyone off red cars for life. So I rang up the fellow at the garage and changed to sky blue.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Bel thought of the old woman alone in the little cottage with her husband lying on the floor in a crumpled heap; she thought of the door opening and Louise walking in—perhaps unable to do very much, but just being there, just standing by. Louise, calm and kind, giving confidence and reassurance, waiting for the doctor to come. There was no need for Louise to have gone to Willow Cottage. She could have done her job by ringing up the houses where the doctor might be found—nobody could expect her to do more—but Louise had not hesitated for a moment, she had crammed on her hat and had gone without hesitation to a fellow human-being in distress.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“he had added ruefully that no money could be squeezed out of the young rapscallion for anything connected with the house. (‘Rapscallion’ was a new word to Mrs. Warmer but she had a dictionary, in which she delighted, so she looked it up and was somewhat surprised).”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“They were fletchers.” “Fletchers?” “People who made arrows and feathered them—I can tell you that much. The village down the road is called Archerfield, so it’s only reasonable to suppose that they practised archery in that big meadow down by the stream.” “And the people in this house made the arrows!”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“Ah, that would be interesting to know. I should like to take a trip backwards in time and see this house under process of construction. It would be worth seeing. Those old johnnies knew how to build. The fabric is as sound as a bell—I was wrong when I called it a ruin. It has lasted about four hundred years and it’ll still be standing when all the houses they’re putting up now will have fallen as flat as pancakes.” He sighed and added, “It’s absolutely criminal for people to allow their property to deteriorate like this. Look at those window-frames, all rotting for want of a lick of paint!”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End

“What a dilapidated place!” they exclaimed. “How dreadfully lonely and isolated! Who do you think would buy a house like this? Fancy coming all this way to see it! The agent must have been crazy to send us here. I told him the sort of house we wanted.”
― D. E. Stevenson, Fletchers End