Roger Lea MacBride > Quotes

“And reading is a wonderful thing for the mind. I have not been many places in my life. But in books, I have traveled all over the world.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, In the Land of the Big Red Apple

“The only way to measure our progress is to read about what this country used to be.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, Little House on Rocky Ridge

“I couldn't ever forget the Big Muddy,' Rose said. Mama said she probably wouldn't either. 'But small, everyday things are easy to forget,' she said. 'You will want to remember those things. Life will be changed when you are grown, just the way life has changed since I was a little girl. The wild prairie is tamed now. Big cities are lit by electrified lamps. People can even visit each other from miles apart, simply by talking into a box. The only way to measure our progress is to read about what this country used to be.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, Little House on Rocky Ridge

“Rose carefully and gently pushed the growing pile of rosy-golden apples around each time another crate was dumped into the wagon. She waded carefully through the apples without lifting her feet, so she wouldn't step on a single one. Soon the whole wagon box was a sea of red and yellow, full almost to the top. She wanted to dive right in, it looked so inviting. She picked two of the reddest ones she could find, gave one to Mama, and they each took a bite.
"Delicious," said Mama through a mouthful, the juice running down her chin. "If there were no other food in the world, I think I could live on apples alone."
Hers was the sweetest apple Rose could ever remember eating.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, In the Land of the Big Red Apple

“She loved all the creatures of the farm. Each one, even a hen, was like a person to her, even more real than many of the real people she knew. Some were playful or bold, and some were shy. Some were gentle, and some were wicked. Some were smart, like Fido, and some were foolish, like the hens.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, In the Land of the Big Red Apple

“Sometimes when Rose was reading, she would catch a whiff of the musty smell of her book. She put her nose down in the fold and inhaled deeply so that wonderful smell, the smell of adventure in faraway lands, would fill her up. She rubbed her hand across the pages to feel the velvety surface of the paper. When she closed her eyes, her fingertips could even feel the words that were printed there, each letter raised just a little, almost like the special language that her blind aunt Mary could read.
To Rose, a book was as real and alive as if it breathed and walked and spoke.”
― Roger Lea MacBride, In the Land of the Big Red Apple