Maud Hart Lovelace Quotes

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

She tried to act as though it were nothing to go to the library alone. But her happiness betrayed her. Her smile could not be restrained, and it spread from her tightly pressed mouth, to her round cheeks, almost to the hair ribbons tied in perky bows over her ears.

The most important part of religion isn't in any church. It's down in your own heart. Religion is in your thoughts, and in the way you act from day to day, in the way you treat other people. It's honesty, and unselfishness, and kindness. Especially kindness.

You might as well learn right now, you two, that the poorest guide you can have in life is what people will say.

Betsy returned to her chair, took off her coat and hat, opened her book and forgot the world again.

Good things come, but they're never perfect; are they? You have to twist them into something perfect.

People were always saying to Margaret, 'Well, Julia sings and Betsy writes. Now what is little Margaret going to do?' Margaret would smile politely, for she was very polite, but privately she stormed to Betsy with flashing eyes, 'I'm not going to do anything. I want to just live. Can't people just live?

Isn't it mysterious to begin a new journal like this? I can run my fingers through the fresh clean pages but I cannot guess what the writing on them will be.

Was life always like that? she wondered. A game of hide and seek in which you only occasionally found the person you wanted to be?

I'm finished with something, but I'm not beginning anything. That's wrong. When you finish something, you ought always to begin something new.

In silence the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.

You have two numbers in your age when you are ten. It's the beginning of growing up.

I cannot remember back to a year in which I did not consider myself to be a writer, and the younger I was the bigger that capital 'W.

One strain could call up the quivering expectancy of Christmas Eve, childhood, joy and sadness, the lonely wonder of a star

She thought of the library, so shining white and new; the rows and rows of unread books; the bliss of unhurried sojourns there and of going out to a restaurant, alone, to eat.

Betsy. The great war is on but I hope ours is over. Please come home. Joe.

Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.