*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:SNOWY~·~ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“While he turned and twisted the strips, the thin outer bark fell off in flakes, leaving the soft, white, inside bark. The whip would have been white, except that Almanzo’s hands left a few smudges. He could not finish it before chore-time, and the next day he had to go to school. But he braided his whip every evening by the heater, till the lash was five feet long. Then Father lent him his jack-knife, and Almanzo whittled a wooden handle, and bound the lash to it with strips of moosewood bark. The whip was done. It would be a perfectly good whip until it dried brittle in the hot summer. Almanzo could crack it almost as loudly as Father cracked a blacksnake whip. And he did not finish it a minute too soon, for already he needed it to give the calves their next lesson. Now he had to teach them to turn to the left when he shouted, “Haw!” and to turn to the right when he shouted “Gee!” As soon as the whip was ready, he began. Every Saturday morning he spent in the barnyard, teaching Star and Bright. He never whipped them; he only cracked the whip.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farmer Boy: Little House on the Prairie #2

“sing to those that hold the vital shears
And turn the adamantine spindle round
Of which the fate of gods and men is wound.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie
To lull the daughters of Necessity,
And keep unsteady Nature to her law,
And the low world in measured motion draw
After the heavenly tune.”
― Arthur Quiller-Couch, Poetry

“SEPTEMBER Tuesday Right off the bat, let’s clear something up: Why are YOU reading my journal? Are you some sort of weirdo who sneaks into kids’ rooms and goes through their personal stuff, like a nosey parent? A journal is private. Put this down right now and walk away. Oh, I see. You found this book online. Even though it’s supposed to be private, I guess I INVITED you to read it. That makes ME the weirdo, not you. I admit it. I’m an EXHIBITIONIST.* I actually want you to stick your nose into my personal stuff. So this really isn’t a journal at all. It’s more like a memoir. * Don’t be LAZY. If you don’t know what a word means, first try to figure it out by seeing how the word works in the sentence around it. If you can’t figure it out, look it up in a dictionary.”
― Jest Ninney, Journal of a Sneaky Twerp: A Shameless Wimpy Kid Parody

“A farmer depends on himself, and the land and the weather. If you’re a farmer, you raise what you eat, you raise what you wear, and you keep warm with wood out of your own timber. You work hard, but you work as you please, and no man can tell you to go or come. You’ll be free and independent, son, on a farm.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farmer Boy: Little House on the Prairie #2