What a strange joy it was to talk, to fish gleefully into the past and fling its fragments about us, with the unfailing aroma of pleasantness that pa…

- Anne Bosworth Greene

November at its best - with a sort of delightful menace in the air.

- Anne Bosworth Greene

My field-mouse had made a set of brand-new tracks; here and there they etched themselves, following the brown flowers. It seemed as if uncommon spiri…

- Anne Bosworth Greene

timeliness is an enemy to art.

- Anne Bosworth Greene

I love old moons. There is something humanized about them; they are dulled a little, and rich in color. One can stare all night at an old moon.

- Anne Bosworth Greene

a sarcastic expression, on a beast, is far more sinister than rage.

- Anne Bosworth Greene

But I shall like my battle. This sort of day puts one in mood for it. Plenty of wood in the shed, jam and potatoes and apples in the cellar, hay and …

- Anne Bosworth Greene

Songs are usually unfit for whistling - indeed, whistling (except to the person doing it) is unbearable.

- Anne Bosworth Greene

The thing one resents about winter is its inactivity; the perpetual sameness of ice-armored hills and snow-blanketed woods. Great things, of course, …

- Anne Bosworth Greene