Jeanne Birdsall Quotes

He'll come," said Rosalind. "He's got to.

Skye." "Lima-Oscar-Victor-Echo

She sat down again. "Oh, Dominic, love has no measure." "What?" "I mean, yes, please kiss me.

Skye's always saying exactly the wrong thing to people-it wasn't just special for you.

He was the least scary adult present, besides being English and therefore fascinating.

It seemed that the closer the girls got to Mrs. Tifton, the louder Skye squished, like a monster jellyfish with feet.

It was the kind of delicious chilliness, though, that was good for thinking about how winter wasn't far away, and snow, and Christmas.

She had to defend the people she loved the best.

And depression settled over the kitchen like a wet fog.

Tommy was nowhere in sight, and though she waited for a few minutes, he didn't reappear.

She didn't like being stuck indoors because of a bully.

Her father had been forced to cancel her clarinet lessons after the neighbors complained about the practicing.

While in her heart Batty knew that Ginevra was a nice person, she sometimes couldn't help wondering if nice people could also be show-offs.

And then last autumn his heart had stopped working properly. The veterinarian said that they just had to care for him and love him, and Batty had loved him, and loved him, and loved him, but it hadn't been enough. No one in her family had ever said that Hound's dying was her fault, but she knew the truth. She hadn't been able to keep him with her, to stop him from leaving her behind.

I did know a girl in middle school who made hand puppets from her boyfriends' socks," said Aunt Claire. "I don't know if she talked to the puppets, but she did make the puppets talk to her.

This set off a series of additional questions from Batty, which Iantha gracefully took on, giving Rosalind the chance to slip away unnoticed. She crossed the street to the Geigers' house, headed round to the back, and knocked on the kitchen door, just as she'd done a thousand times before.

You have a rare and marvelous gift with words.

Aunt Claire, I apologize to you too, since you probably had to pretend you weren't my aunt."
"Apology accepted." Aunt Claire smiled, which did much to lighten Skye's heart. "I must say your mad charge at Melissa was impressive. Perhaps you should switch to ice hockey or professional wrestling."
"Claire, please be serious," said Mr. Penderwick.
"I am being serious.

It wasn't a rock. It was a dog's rubber bone, left behind months ago to be buried first under autumn leaves, then winter snow. Just an old rubber bone, but Batty was already braced for what she knew would come - the rushing in her ears, the stab in her stomach, and the seeping away of the colors from her world. The soft blue spring sky, the yellow forsythia hedge, even Ben's bright red hair - all dulled, all gray and wretched.

Toward the urn the three children raced in a dead heat, Jane still shouting . FOR CHURCHILL, NELSON, AND PRINCE WILLIAM!

A whole extra bed without a sister to go along with it!

Endings are sad, aren't they?"
"Yes.

The moonlight had turned the gardens into a fairyland, magnificent and mysterious.

Quidquid agas prudenter agas et respice finem ... Skye was used to hearing this phrase, which Mr. Penderwick translated loosely as look before you leap and please don't do anything crazy.

I do have an important question, but I can ask it from out here. Are you dry?
Of course I'm dry. Why do you ask that?
So many daughters have come home wet lately.

No, you stupid idiot, there's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect.

Some secrets buried away in boxes are peacefully forgotten, just as we hope they'll be. But some refuse to stay in their boxes, popping out at the worst possible times. And then there are those ... that linger and fester, gnawing away from the inside out.

I've been going insane reading my students' papers. Apparently several of them think the Hubble Space Telescope is used to search the universe for hubbles."
~ Ithana Aaronson

revealing Jane in all her blood-soaked glory,

This is truly a sad comedown for a man and a Geiger. Please say you'll talk some sense into him.

Was she in love? Rosalind had asked herself that many times in the last few weeks. Anna's mother said you're in love when you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Rosalind felt bad enough for a motorcycle, maybe, but not a truck.

Skye, no one except you believes in the possibility of Batty blowing up.

This is what made a book great, she thought, that you could read it over and over and never get tired of it.

Ladies and dogs," said Jeffrey, "we are about to perform 'Fanfare for the Uncommon Seal.' " "With apologies to Aaron Copland,

Maybe it's fate Hound ate the map. Maybe we'll discover something wonderful while we're lost.

Maybe I can drown him in the lily pond.

Am I odd?Is there something wrong with me,like Mrs.Tifton Said?"
Skye knelt down on the wet grass and looked straight into Batty's eyes. "No you stupid idiot,there's nothing wrong. with you.

Why does everybody think I argue? I never argue." Skye hesitated. "Or at least, I'm not going to argue as much anymore."
"That would be a miracle."
Skye chose to pretend she hadn't heard.

I do, too, understand. Rosalind wants to find creepy ladies for Daddy so we don't have to worry about stepmothers.

When Batty got back home from walking the dogs, there were teenagers lounging all over the place, some left over from the basketball game, some arriving for the birthday dinner, some who fit into both categories. For once, she hardly cared, too delighted to see that Oliver's sleek car was no longer in the driveway. Hoping that he was gone forever, she rushed into the house and ended up in the kitchen, where dinner preparations were in full swing. Mr. Penderwick was chopping up vegetables for quesadillas, Rosalind was pulling a cake out of the oven, Jeffrey was shredding cheese, and Iantha was cooking up small, plain cheese quesadillas for Lydia, who was to be fed before the big dinner got rolling. Then there were the non-workers: Lydia in her high chair, wearing both her crown and her lamb bib, her new pink rabbit beside her; Jane sitting cross-legged on the floor, in everyone's way; Ben, strutting around, showing off his new Celtics T-shirt; and Asimov, sticking close to Jeffrey, hoping for falling cheese.

Will each of my daughters be delivered to me, one at a time, as from the briny deep?

Jane circled the mansion, passing door after door, all too la-di-da for comfort.

It was all a cottage is supposed to be, small and snug, with a front porch, pink climbing roses, and lots of trees for shade.