Emma Griffiths

“Hurry! hurry! the house seemed to whisper round him. The hour is passing … passing …”
― Philippa Pearce, Tom's Midnight Garden

“But there are bars across the bottom of the window!’ he burst out. ‘This is a nursery! I’m not a baby!”
― Philippa Pearce, Tom's Midnight Garden

“It’s touched you, it’s written all over you: you’ve felt the hand of nature. It won’t ever leave you now; you’re salted.”
― Raynor Winn, The Salt Path

“There is a time, between night and day, when land-scapes sleep. Only the earliest riser sees that hour; or the all-night traveller, letting up the blind of his railway-carriage window, will look out on a rushing landscape of stillness, in which trees and bushes and plants stand immobile and breathless in sleep—wrapped in sleep, as the traveller himself wrapped his body in his great-coat or his rug the night before.”
― Philippa Pearce, Tom's Midnight Garden