Following Mainly Authors.
“troubles are poor things to hug. They've got too many prickers.”
― Pollyanna Grows Up
― Pollyanna Grows Up
“It makes you doubt yourself, it makes you feel like nothing but in the end, you emerge as the strongest human being ever. That's life. Leave it or live it.”
― The Last Day Of My Life
― The Last Day Of My Life
“I don't see how you can find anything about this poor-people business to be glad for. Of course we can be glad for ourselves that we aren't poor like them; but whenever I'm thinking how glad I am for that, I get so sorry for them that I CAN'T be glad any longer. Of course we COULD be glad there were poor folks, because we could help them. But if we DON'T help them, where's the glad part of that coming in?”
― Pollyanna Grows Up
― Pollyanna Grows Up
“Oh, Pollyanna, Pollyanna, to think of the Harrington homestead ever coming to this!" "It isn't, dearie," Pollyanna at last soothed laughingly. "It's the
Carews that are COMING TO THE HARRINGTON HOMESTEAD!”
― Pollyanna Grows Up
Carews that are COMING TO THE HARRINGTON HOMESTEAD!”
― Pollyanna Grows Up
“The children hadn't any Mamma. She had died when Phil was a baby, four years before my story began. Katy could remember her pretty well; to the rest she was but a sad, sweet name, spoken on Sunday, and at prayer-times, or when Papa was especially gentle and solemn. In place of this Mamma, whom they recollected so dimly, there was Aunt Izzie, Papa's sister, who came to take care of them when Mamma went away on that long journey, from which, for so many months, the little ones kept hoping she might return. Aunt Izzie was a small woman, sharp-faced and thin, rather old-looking, and very neat and particular about everything. She meant to be kind to the children, but they puzzled her much, because they were not a bit like herself when she was a child. Aunt Izzie had been a gentle, tidy little thing, who loved to sit as Curly Locks did, sewing long seams in the parlor, and to have her head patted by older people, and be told that she was a good girl; whereas Katy tore her dress every day, hated sewing, and didn't care a button about being called "good," while Clover and Elsie shied off like restless ponies when any one tried to pat their heads. It was very perplexing to Aunt Izzie, and she found it hard to quite forgive the children for being so "unaccountable," and so little like the good boys and girls in Sunday-school memoirs, who were the young people she liked best, and understood most about.”
― What Katy Did
― What Katy Did
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