“He watched the sun rise beyond the grape arbor. In the thin golden light the young leaves and tendrils of the Scuppernong were like Twink Weatherby's hair. He decided that sunrise and sunset both gave him a pleasantly sad feeling.… — 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
