“He glanced about him to make sure we weren't overheard, leaned forward, and whispered, 'He collects stamps.' The family looked bewildered. 'You mean he's a philatelist?' said Larry at length. 'No, no, Master Larrys,' said Spiro. 'He's not one of… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
Gradually the magic of the island [Corfu] settled over us as gently and clingingly as pollen. — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
They were maps that lived, maps that one could study, frown over, and add to; maps, in short, that really meant something. — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
“It's all your fault, Mother,' said Larry austerely; 'you shouldn't have brought us up to be so selfish.' 'I like that!' exclaimed Mother. 'I… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
As I watched the pulsing fire among the trees and heard the beat of the drum merge and tremble with the voices, forming an… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
Each day had a tranquility a timelessness about it so that you wished it would never end. But then the dark skin of the… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
We stared at the odd garment and wondered what it was for. 'What is it?' asked Larry at length. 'It's a bathing costume, of… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
“Lying spread-eagled in the silky water, gazing into the sky, only moving my hands and feet slightly to keep afloat, I was looking at… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
“Larry was always full of ideas about things of which he had no experience.” — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
“No sooner were they drowsing pleasantly than the Magenpies would start the food call, one doing the hiccoughs while the other did the piping. The hens would all glance nervously round, each waiting for one of the others to show signs of life. The Magenpies would call again, more seductively and urgently. Suddenly, one hen with less self-control than the… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share
“The noise of drinking was exhilarating. Champagne corks popped and the pale, chrysanthemum-coloured liquid, whispering gleefully with bubbles, hissed into the glasses; heavy red wine glupped into the goblets, thick and crimson as the blood of some mythical monster, and a swirling wreath of pink bubbles formed on the surface; the frosty white wine tiptoed into the glasses, shrilling, gleaming,… — Gerald Durrell Copy Share
My childhood in Corfu shaped my life. If I had the craft of Merlin, I would give every child the gift of my childhood. — Gerald Durrell Copy Share Image
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