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 oats and Cressy in the barn. Pooh -… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
The thing one resents about winter is its inactivity; the perpetual sameness of ice-armored hills and snow-blanketed woods. Great things, of course, may be going on underneath; but nature wears a mask, is icily non-committal. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
With writing ... you must keep in the habit. After a lapse it will take you not an hour, but a week, a month,… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
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… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
But I shall like my battle. This sort of day puts one in mood for it. Plenty of wood in the shed, jam and… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
I love old moons. There is something humanized about them; they are dulled a little, and rich in color. One can stare all night… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
How different a loved and familiar spot appears, when viewed with the eye of probable guests. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
A farm is like a very large and extended baby. It takes a great deal of time and very little mentality. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
November at its best - with a sort of delightful menace in the air. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
a sarcastic expression, on a beast, is far more sinister than rage. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
Songs are usually unfit for whistling - indeed, whistling (except to the person doing it) is unbearable. — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
What a strange joy it was to talk, to fish gleefully into the past and fling its fragments about us, with the unfailing aroma… — Anne Bosworth Greene Copy Share Image
