“The road goes west out of the village, past open pine woods and gallberry flats. An eagle's nest is a ragged cluster of sticks in a tall tree, and one of the eagles is usually black and silver against the… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“This, then, was hunger. This was what his mother had meant when she had said, "We'll all go hongry." He had laughed, for he… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
You can't change a man, no-ways. By the time his mummy turns him loose and he takes up with some innocent woman and marries… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
Life is strong stuff, some of us can bear more of it than others. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
Who owns Cross Creek? The red-birds, I think, more than I, for they will have their nests even in the face of delinquent mortgages..It… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“You've seed how things goes in the world o' men. You've knowed men to be low-down and mean. You've seed ol' Death at his… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
For myself, the Creek satisfies a thing that had gone hungry and unfed since childhood days. I am often lonely. Who is not? But… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to.” — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
Writing is agony for me. I work at it eight hours every day, hoping to get six pages, but I am satisfied with three. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
No man should have proprietary rights over land who does not use that land wisely and lovingly. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“Perhaps all men were moved against their will. A man ordered his life, and then an obscurity of circumstance sent him down a road… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“He wrote: Dear ollever; yor ol twinkk has dun gode up the rivver. im gladd. yor friend jody.” — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
Here in Florida the seasons move in and out like nuns in soft clothing, making no rustle in their passing. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
“He was addled with April. He was dizzy with Spring. He was as drunk as Lem Forrester on a Saturday night.” — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
